


Lessons In How Not To Be An Utter Douchebag

by achievemenhunter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Dom/sub Undertones, GTAV AU, Gunplay, Guns, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Smut, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 118,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achievemenhunter/pseuds/achievemenhunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fake AH Crew's latest recruit, Gavin, is a talented and invaluable new asset, to be sure, but that doesn't make his sense of superiority any less unbearable. If anything, it just makes it worse, and Ryan is under the firm impression that no amount of skill with computers should warrant that level of smugness in a person. Even if that person also happens to be frustratingly attractive.</p><p>Scratch that, <em>especially</em> if they also happen to be frustratingly attractive.</p><p>Geoff asks Ryan to scare the kid into showing a little more humility, and he gladly complies.</p><p>…His methods end up being something that Geoff probably didn't have in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because this fandom doesn't have nearly enough gunplay. 
> 
> Also, I plan on writing one, maybe two additional pieces in this universe, so stay tuned for those.
> 
> Content warnings are in the tags.

"We have a problem."

 

With a calm expression, Ryan looked up from the pistol he was cleaning. Geoff, leader of the Fake AH crew, stood a metre or so from him, arms folded and looking incredibly serious despite the almost comical handlebar moustache that dominated his face.

 

Ryan put the gun down.

 

"What is it?" he asked idly, leaning back on the crate he was perched upon, broad shoulders touching the wall. "Is the RT crew trying to encroach on our turf again?" A small smile played across his lips at the prospect of potential violent retribution.

 

"No, it's… an internal thing."

 

Ryan's interest was piqued and he sat forward again, leather jacket creaking. "Oh? What's the issue?"

 

"Gavin," he said, and Ryan scowled immediately, picking up the gun again.

 

"What's that little shit up to now?"

 

"That's just the thing." Geoff tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "He's good at what he does - damn best I've ever met - but he's so fucking full of himself, I know none of the crew, you included, can stand it." He snorted. "And that's something I can drink to. I need someone to scare some goddamn respect into the kid, and you're by far the scariest motherfucker around."

 

Ryan silently raised an eyebrow at him.

 

Geoff rolled his eyes. "Don't act like you don't love that reputation."

 

"Oh, I'm not denying it. I just always enjoy it when you acknowledge the fact." He grinned suddenly, canines flashing. "Gives me the warm fuzzies."

 

"So are you in?"

 

Ryan swiped a rag down the barrel's length. "Yeah, I can knock him down a couple pegs."

 

The older man relaxed. "Good to hear. Just don't… maim him, or kill him, okay? I still want him to be able to do his job. Don't break his fingers or anything, he needs those."

 

"Duly noted, Boss." Ryan saluted him mockingly, gun still in hand.

 

"And the sooner you can get this done, the better."

 

Ryan set the gun down and packed away the cleaning equipment before scooping it up once more, checking that it was appropriately loaded then tucking it into his waistband. He stood. "Already on it."

 

Geoff nodded with a smile. "Good to hear," he repeated, and sauntered out of the room.

 

Ryan turned in the opposite direction, heading for the room dedicated to their technological hardware. As the resident computer whiz, this was Gavin's domain, and as such was the most likely place the Brit would be.

 

He opened the door, and sure enough, Gavin was perched in a chair in front of several monitors, his seating position looking exactly nothing like proper posture dictated it should.

 

The Brit made no acknowledgement that he'd noticed the older man's arrival, even when Ryan moved further into the room, leaning against the desk next to the Brit.

 

"Hey, Gavin," he greeted. Gavin grunted in reply. Ryan scowled briefly, then continued, "I need your help with something. D'you have a moment?"

 

Gavin typed lazily with one hand, feet up on the desk and eyes not once flicking away from the screen. "Nope. I'm too busy." He continued his leisurely typing, clearly not actually doing anything productive.

 

Ryan gritted his teeth, deciding to give Gavin one last chance to not be a self-serving dick. Normally he wouldn't make such concessions, but despite everything he did have the slightest of soft spots for the Brit. He had to admit that it likely had a great deal to do with the fact that, once he'd discounted the younger man's distasteful attitude, he found Gavin physically attractive - all long, tanned limbs and wild golden-brown hair and mischievous green eyes. It would be a shame to ruin any potential there, but the younger man's personality was becoming increasingly unbearable, and it was pushing Ryan to the brink. The older man sighed almost imperceptibly. "It's important. I'd really appreciate your help, Gavin."

 

Gavin's nose wrinkled as he tapped lackadaisically at the keyboard, one finger at a time, seeming to make the keys clack extra loud for no other reason than because it obviously irritated Ryan. "Nah," he said off-handedly, still not even having the decency to look in Ryan's direction as he talked to him.

 

Ryan's careworn patience snapped.

 

Without a word, he pulled out his gun and jammed it against the back of Gavin's neck. _" _Jesus!_ "_ Gavin nearly toppled from his chair in his shock, voice suddenly high and squawky. "Bloody hell, what're you doing?"

 

"Get up," Ryan ordered. Gavin complied very quickly.

 

"Have you gone mental?" His voice shook, trying to cringe away from the cold muzzle of the gun. "What is this?"

 

Ryan ignored him. "Walk."

 

"Geoff's going to go ballistic when he finds out you threatened me," he warned weakly as Ryan marched him out of the room.

 

The older man let out a chuckle at this. Gavin did not find the sound comforting in the slightest. His knees trembled as Ryan steered them towards a nearby supply closet.

 

"Who the hell do you think asked me to do this?" Ryan replied, pushing Gavin inside and closing the door behind them, the gun still against the back of the younger man's neck. Ryan reached for Gavin's shoulder and spun him around, allowing him to see the terrified confusion on the Brit's face.

 

"W-What?"

 

"I'm not sure that you've noticed, Gavin, but you are a singularly insufferable human being," Ryan's tone was sardonic. "You act like you're better and more important than everyone around you, when you really aren't. Geoff asked me to rectify that attitude." He levelled the gun at Gavin's forehead, and the Brit backed further into the closet. "By any means necessary. I  _will_ shoot you if it comes down to it."

 

"I-I don't believe you," Gavin said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than Ryan. "I'm too valuable for you guys to lose. I bet it's not even- I bet you've unloaded it." And he even began to sound a little more confident, his usual brazen arrogance reasserting itself.

 

Ryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he let out a short, menacing growl, whipping the gun up so that it pointed at the ceiling, then squeezed the trigger. Gavin started and squeaked at the sudden sound of a gun going off in a confined space, face ashen as a small trickle of dust drifted down from the new hole in the ceiling.

 

"Don't fucking test me." Ryan bit the words out, bringing the gun down so that Gavin was once again staring down the barrel. It was so close to his face that he could feel the heat of its recent discharge, the level of warmth something that would have actually been quite pleasant if it weren't directly related to an object designed to kill.

 

Gavin's resolve shattered immediately.

 

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, not really knowing what in particular he was apologising for, but feeling it was probably prudent to do so anyway.

 

Ryan's free hand fell heavily on his shoulder, pressing down, and Gavin flinched, allowing himself to be forced to his knees. He ducked his head in submission, whining pathetically when the barrel of the pistol slipped under his chin, still uncomfortably warm as it tipped his head back up, forcing him to meet Ryan's cold blue eyes.

 

"I am only going to say this once," Ryan enunciated slowly, carefully, so that there would be no mistake. "Granted, you are a very talented individual; you're highly intelligent and we wouldn't have been able to pull off half the heists we have since you joined without your help." His eyes turned icy at the way Gavin preened at the words despite the gun tucked under his chin, and he jerked his hand, pressing the barrel more firmly against Gavin's throat. The sight scraped over the younger man's skin, tearing slightly. Blood beaded across the small laceration, and the self-satisfied expression that had started to form on the Brit's face vanished.

 

 _"But."_ Ryan continued forcefully, "That intelligence doesn't seem to be tempered by any measurable amount of wisdom. You are the most infuriatingly egotistical person I've ever had the displeasure of meeting, and all the talent in the world is never going to make up for the fact that everyone else in the crew - myself obviously included - wants to rip out your goddamn throat every time you open that pompous mouth of yours." He fisted his free hand in Gavin's forelock, pushing the Brit's head back further and exposing more of his tanned throat to the still-warm metal kiss of the muzzle. Gavin whined again, swallowing convulsively as he locked eyes with Ryan.  His hands twitched like they wanted to reach up and try to wrest the gun from Ryan's grip, but he was too paralysed to actually act on the desire.

 

"Let me make this  _abundantly_  clear for you," Ryan said, holding Gavin firmly in place. "If you continue to act like we should be worshipping the ground you walk on, like you're doing us some huge favour every time you do something that's part of your fucking  _job_ , very soon one of us will get fed up with you and decide you're more trouble than you're worth. And the way things are going, it's probably going to be me. Is that understood?"

 

"Got it," Gavin croaked, voice cracking as Ryan let the gun trail lower, pushing against the hollow of Gavin's throat.

 

Suddenly, Ryan became acutely aware of the way Gavin's throat bobbed underneath the metal pressed against it, breath hitching and lips parted, tongue darting out to moisten them despite the way they already glistened wetly, invitingly. His eyes, still transfixed by Ryan's, were dilated with more than just fear, Ryan realised.

 

…Well. Wasn't that a lovely surprise. 

 

Originally, he'd intended to simply rough the Brit up a little - as per Geoff's orders, he couldn't go all out like he usually did. But  _this_ … This could be  _fun_.

 

His grin was wolfish.

 

"Do you really?" he practically purred, barrel tracing up the line of Gavin's neck, far gentler than before. The Brit sucked in a small gasp of air. His eyelids fluttered slightly, and Ryan's grin grew wider, his suspicions entirely vindicated. "Or am I going to have to give you a proper lesson in humility?" He trailed the muzzle softly along the line of Gavin's jaw before letting it come to rest by the side of his mouth, intent clear. Then he pulled back slightly, still keeping a firm grip in Gavin's hair.

 

The Brit remained silent, holding his breath.

 

"The way I see it," Ryan told him, voice almost a drawl, "you have a few options here. Number one is that you ask me, very nicely, to let you leave, and swear to me that all your arrogant bullshit is a thing of the past." His grip tightened a little. "But know that if you choose this, and go back on your word, then you'll just end up right here again. And trust me, I will be  _much_ less friendly if that happens." His face held its serious lines for a few seconds, then softened, lips curling briefly at the corners. "Option two, you let me do what you clearly want me to do. If you say no and go with option one, I promise I'll let you go. I may be many things, but I would never force you against your will." He looked deep into Gavin's eyes, ensuring the younger man understood and believed him, then continued. "If you  _do_  choose to leave, though, that's it. This is a one-time only offer, Gavin. You leave and you will  _never_  know what you missed out on." He shifted again, gently but firmly pressing the gun against the corner of Gavin's mouth once more, and waited for his answer.

 

There was a beat of silence, of stillness, a chance for Gavin to baulk at what Ryan was proposing, to beg to be allowed to leave the room with the promise that he'd be less of an asshole in the future.

 

Instead, he slowly dragged his tongue over his lips once more, leaving them shining and parted, mouthing just a little at the edge of the barrel. Ryan took the action as an obvious invitation, and twisted the gun sideways, pushing it into Gavin's mouth. Gavin's lips parted easily, letting the barrel slide between his teeth. Not wanting to chip them, Ryan eased the gun in gently, hand remaining steady.

 

Gavin grimaced at the taste of gunpowder and metal on his tongue, but Ryan wasn't pushing the pistol deep enough in his throat to set off his hair-trigger gag reflex. Ryan's other hand was still curled firmly in Gavin's hair, and he guided Gavin through a bobbing motion, the Brit's lips easily, smoothly gliding along the barrel's length.

 

There was a small part of Gavin's mind that was alarmed at how quickly things had developed, and started to worry that maybe he'd made a mistake. That tiny voice pointed out that it possibly wasn't the best idea to let his mouth be used like this, even if he could feel the enjoyment it was giving him starting to stir in his pants.

 

_It's a gun, a loaded gun, there's a bloody loaded gun in your mouth stop being so aroused you idiot!_

 

He looked up at Ryan and continued to suck.

 

A satisfied smile settled on the older man's lips, blue eyes dark. "Yeah, you're much better like this."

 

And that was enough. Gavin moaned quietly, the barrel warm and wide and heavy on his tongue. He wondered how Ryan's cock compared.

 

The thought made him moan again.

 

Slowly, so as not to tear the inside of Gavin's mouth with the sight, Ryan pulled the gun away. The younger man whined and tried to follow it, making Ryan chuckle.

 

Gavin looked up at him pitifully, lips red and loose, hands gripping at the denim of his skinny jeans. The Brit cursed himself for always wearing such tight pants - his erection wasn't even at full mast yet, but it was already pressing painfully against the zipper. Ryan seemed to notice this, smirking as he dragged the muzzle lightly along the younger man's jawline. The spit coating the barrel left a cold, wet trail on Gavin's skin, making him shiver, goosebumps springing up on his skin. The gun traced its way down his neck, and he moaned once more, earning him another of Ryan's sharp grins.

 

Suddenly, he was being hauled to his feet, and for a brief second, he panicked, thinking he'd done something wrong. Then Ryan was pressing him against the wall with his gun, with his body, their mouths crashing together. Ryan pushed his tongue between Gavin's lips and Gavin let him. The taste of metal and gunpowder in his mouth gradually faded, replaced with Ryan's undeniable masculinity. Gavin whined, feeling himself twitch and strain painfully against the confines of his jeans. He let out a broken moan when Ryan rolled their hips against one another, his own arousal evident.

 

Then the gun began to dip, ever so slowly, down the side of Gavin's throat, bumping gently over his collarbone, scraping over the thin material of the front of his shirt, metal clicking over plastic buttons.

 

Gavin's pulse got faster the closer the pistol got to his crotch. His hands itched to roam across Ryan's broad chest, his muscled shoulders, his firm back, to tear off his leather jacket and plain black t-shirt and feel the warmth of bare skin. Somehow, though, with the gun so achingly close to the bulge in his jeans, Gavin thought such actions would not be appreciated at that exact moment in time. Instead, he kept his hands clawed against the wall, breathing hard and fast with his bottom lip between his teeth.

 

He let out all manner of needy, lustful sounds as the barrel slipped between his legs and pressed insistently against the front of his pants. His hips jittered forward involuntarily, and Ryan rubbed the gun against him, slow rolling circles that brought the younger man to full hardness. Ryan nipped at his lips and Gavin mewled into his mouth.

 

"Ryan, please," he whimpered. "Please, I-I want- I need-" He cut himself off with a groan as Ryan's mouth suddenly dropped to his neck and sucked a dark, prominent mark there, simultaneously pressing the gun a little harder against him.

 

"What is it, Gavin?" Ryan asked mockingly. "You seem to love running your mouth, why don't you tell me what you want?"

 

His cheeks burned with colour. "Ryan,  _please_ ," he whined again, not wanting to say it outright, not sure if he still had the ability to articulate a proper answer.

 

The older man tutted at him, breath ghosting along Gavin's skin. "At least you're being far more polite now," he mused, then stepped back. "Why don't you take off your clothes and see if I can't figure out what it is you want, hm?"

 

Gavin blinked and stared, mind sluggish and overloaded with arousal.

 

Clarity came in the form of the gun being jammed under his chin once more.

 

"Clothes. Off.  _Now_."

 

He didn't need to be told a third time. Ryan pulled back to give him space, and he practically tore at his own clothes, kicking off shoes and socks as his fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. The sleeves slipped over his arms, and his hands didn't even hesitate before they were reaching for his belt, discarding it with a slithering clink. The vibration that travelled along the length of Gavin's cock as he undid his zipper made the Brit keen softly before he shoved his jeans down his thighs, boxers caught up in the form-hugging denim. He pushed his pants down further, then stepped out of them, standing entirely naked and completely hard.

 

Ryan's pupils were blown with lust, smirking at the way Gavin was so desperately presenting himself to the older man.

 

"If I'd known you'd be like this, I would have done something about you months ago," he murmured, stepping in close again and pressing the barrel against Gavin's cock, the front sight nestled against the sensitive spot just in front of his balls. The metal had started to cool a little, but Gavin still felt himself get harder, gasping and twitching slightly at the unexpected touch. Ryan rolled the gun in small circles once more, and Gavin whined, eyes closed and neck exposed as his head rolled listlessly to the side. Precome dribbled from the head of his cock, sliding down the side of the barrel to drip from the muzzle.

 

Gavin's fingertips gripped at the wall so hard his nails almost started to tear and bleed. Before this could happen, however, Ryan added a few more hickeys to Gavin's tantalisingly bared neck, whispering, "I want you on your hands and knees."

 

This time, the younger man's response was immediate. As soon as Ryan gave him the space to do so, he pushed away from the wall and dropped to his knees, scraping them slightly in his haste. He placed his hands on the ground, stretched above his head, ass shoved into the air. "Good boy," Ryan murmured approvingly, chuckling when Gavin whimpered. He marvelled at the change that had come over the usually painfully arrogant Brit, from just a few words and actions. When he thought about it, though, it didn't really surprise him. After all, everyone in their line of work had to get off on danger to some degree. With the way Gavin antagonised everyone in his workplace - especially in a workplace like theirs - he had just been asking for something to happen. Everyone had buttons to be pressed, it was just a matter of finding them.

 

Ryan had always been very good at that. 

 

He collected Gavin's belt from the floor, looping it between his hands. The Brit twisted, trying to keep Ryan on his line of sight, but returned to staring at the floor when Ryan made a sound of disapproval. His body shook with the desire to watch what the older man was doing, and he gasped when Ryan suddenly hunkered down beside him, trailing calloused fingers over Gavin's forearms. Ryan's free hand gripped briefly at his wrists before his own belt was being slipped over them, tightened in a series of deft loops and knots. Gavin couldn't resist giving it a slight tug, and wasn't surprised when the knots stayed firm. Ryan tapped the gun warningly against his lower back, and he was quick to prostrate himself once more, legs spread and ass on display.

 

The older man's other hand splayed against the base of his spine, goosebumps erupting across Gavin's skin as he shivered at the warm touch. Ryan's middle finger rested in the cleft of his ass, so achingly close to his hole that it was almost unbearable. A quiet, keening sound built in Gavin's throat as he trembled with anticipation, pushing his lower back up against the older man's hand.

 

Ryan was just about to kneel down behind the younger man and start prepping him when his eyes caught on the gun kits stacked on one of the shelves. His smile turned devilish.

 

"Stay down," he ordered, and Gavin complied with a whimper as Ryan stepped around him, pulling one of the kits from the shelf while still keeping the pistol trained on the Brit. Gavin flinched as Ryan set the case on the floor next to him, whining softly at the way that Ryan was so deliberately being slow in his actions as he flicked open the clasps on the kit. He methodically searched through the contents before finally pulling out a small bottle of gun oil. He looked over at the younger man, eyes meeting his before raking over the swell of the Brit's ass, and grinned.

 

The moan that escaped Gavin was an utterly shattered sound.

 

Ryan moved behind him, gun muzzle settling between the Brit's shoulder blades, and he twisted the cap off the gun oil with the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. The cap dropped to the ground with a short series of plastic plinks, rolling away to rest against Gavin's knee. Ryan tipped the bottle slightly over the cleft of Gavin's ass, and the oil slowly poured out over it, some pooling in the dip of his back while the rest slid down over Gavin's entrance, running along the underside of his straining cock before dripping onto the floor. Pressing the gun a little more firmly against the Brit's back, Ryan set the empty bottle to the side and trailed his fingers through the oil collecting along Gavin's spine. Then, he unceremoniously pushed two slicked fingers into Gavin's hole.

 

The Brit wailed, a fresh stream of precome surging from his slit as he threw his head back, Ryan's fingers working their way into him.

 

Ryan's movements were unforgiving, and Gavin took them like he'd die without them. Within moments, the older man's fingers were knuckle-deep, easily sliding in and out of Gavin's hole.

 

"Really should have done this months ago," Ryan muttered as he added a third finger. Gavin mewled and pressed himself backwards, forcing Ryan's fingers into him as deep as he could. He stretched easily, speaking volumes for how eager he was for all of this. Ryan grinned. "You really are coming along beautifully," he praised, then let the gun slowly drift along the curve of Gavin's spine, the oil there aiding its smooth slide. Gavin trembled uncontrollably as the muzzle came to rest in the cleft of his ass, just above where Ryan's fingers entered him.

 

"Oh god, Ryan,  _please_ ," he begged, random spasms racking him.

 

The older man chuckled. "What's that, Gavin?" His voice was low, seductive, and another shudder coursed through Gavin's body. "You want to be fucked by my pistol, is that it? Is that what you want?" Gavin whined, nodding jerkily, and Ryan laughed again. "You know that the sight will hurt you, right? You'll be able to feel it the entire time that my gun is inside you." He paused, considering the younger man. "You don't even care about that, do you?"

 

"Ryan, please," he pleaded desperately. "I don't care, I can't take it anymore, please just fuck me with your gun, please-" His words cut off in a needy whine as Ryan pressed his fingers deeper, assaulting Gavin's prostate.

 

"You'll be no good to me if you're too sore for anything afterwards," Ryan told him, fingers circling around the younger man's prostate relentlessly. "How about I prep a special gun, just for you, for next time? I'll file down the sight on it, and I'll fuck you with it as much as you like then. How does that sound?"

 

Gavin's head swam, not only at the prospect that all this could happen again, but also the fact that Ryan would add a gun to his arsenal that had the specific purpose of pleasuring Gavin. That Ryan would likely make the gun clearly distinguishable from his many others, so that if Gavin saw him carrying it, the Brit would know immediately, and wouldn't be able to stop himself from getting aroused.

 

Ryan stopped all movement. "Gavin, I'm waiting for an answer."

 

"God, yes, Ryan, that sounds bloody fantastic, please, just  _do_   _something_ -"

 

He moaned brokenly as Ryan pulled his fingers away, reaching into the gun kit for a rag to wipe his hands on. Gavin's entrance clenched at the air, tightening slightly as Ryan shrugged off his jacket, gun changing hands as he tugged his arms through the sleeves. The leather crumpled to the floor and Ryan worked at his belt, whipping it free and setting it atop his jacket. A moment later his jeans and underwear were midway down his thighs and he was pushing all the way into Gavin's hole, groaning at the tight, wet heat as the younger man wailed and writhed beneath him.

 

"Fuck, Gavin, you're so good," he growled, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, launching into a brutal rhythm. Gavin's back arched as the gun was shoved against it once more, Ryan's other hand gripping bruisingly tight at his hip. The Brit's arms scraped against the floor at the forcefulness of Ryan's pace, and he moaned, another few drops of precome dripping from the tip of his cock.

 

The oil made it hard for Ryan to maintain his grip on Gavin's hip, especially with how hard he was thrusting into the younger man. After his hand slipped for the third time, he gave up on keeping himself steady there, and instead grabbed Gavin's hair. The Brit's spine arched further, his mouth open but his mind far beyond supplying him with actual words, as the sharp tug against his scalp set the nerve endings there on fire. A garbled sound of pleasure escaped him, made staccato by Ryan's thrusts. His palms skittered slightly across the ground, scraping them as his fingers curled.

 

"So good for me," Ryan whispered, and Gavin moaned, the praise sending a warm feeling flooding through his belly. Ryan canted his hips just a little, and the angle changed, making Gavin cry out once more as Ryan now rammed directly into his prostate on every thrust. Gavin felt the sensation start to build impossibly, and knew that he was getting close.

 

"Ry- gon- pl-" Gavin tried to get the words out, but a combination of Ryan's forceful movements and the overwhelming amount of endorphins flooding him stopped his sentence before it really began.

 

The older man still managed to figure out what Gavin was attempting to say, and leaned down over Gavin's back, pulling their hips flush before going still. He placed his lips an inch from Gavin's ear, and when he spoke, his voice was low and compelling.

 

"You don't get to come until I say you do. Is that understood?"

 

Gavin whimpered, but managed to nod his head, awkwardly because of the grip Ryan still had on his hair.

 

"Good," he purred, and started to pound into Gavin again, even faster than before. Gavin struggled to hold himself together, feeling like the pleasure was about to make him burst as he did everything he could to hold it at bay until Ryan told him differently. His entire world became focused on the physical sensations, filling him up and barely managing to stop them from overcoming him. Above him, he felt Ryan's pace begin to become erratic, and he bit his lip hard enough to taste blood.

 

So close. Release was so close.

 

A quiet, "Fuck," slipped from between Ryan's lips, his head starting to tip back.

 

"Come for me, Gavin," he whispered, and Gavin screamed as one of the most intense orgasms of his life tore through him, pleasure bombarding him from every angle. He felt Ryan thrust into him a few more times before filling Gavin with heat, letting out a groan of his own. Gavin keened at the sensation, his body coated in oil and sweat as Ryan panted harshly above him, slowly coming down from his high.

 

The older man pulled out of him with a wet sound, reaching once more for the rag in the gun kit to clean himself off. His come started to leak slowly from Gavin's hole, irregular shudders running through the Brit's body, legs trembling as they threatened to give out entirely.

 

Ryan stood, doing up his pants and picking up his jacket, shrugging it on.

 

"Turn around, Gavin."

 

Gavin straightened up, twisting his torso and shuffling on his knees until he was facing the older man. He gazed up at Ryan with something close to adoration. The endearing expression shifted to worried confusion as Ryan pointed the gun at him again, finger on the trigger. Ryan's face was grim and cold, like it had been when they had first entered the storage room.

 

Something in the set of the older man's lips hardened, and Gavin cried out, eyes snapping shut and still-bound hands flying up in front of his face in a futile attempt to shield himself from the bullet's path as Ryan's finger tightened on the trigger.

 

The gun clicked and Gavin dared to crack his eyes open again. Ryan still stood over him, still pointing the gun at him, and laughed, sounding genuinely amused.

 

"You didn't really think it was loaded this whole time, did you?"

 

Gavin swallowed dryly, hands dropping. "But-"

 

"The only bullet that was in this gun is the one currently in the ceiling," Ryan said with a grin, pointing up. The Brit's eyes followed the line of his finger involuntarily, and when he looked back down, Ryan was scooping Gavin's clothes from the ground, gun tucked into his waistband as he headed for the door.

 

"Wait-" Gavin pleaded, panicked, staggering forward on his knees.

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow, one hand on the doorframe and the other holding Gavin's clothing under his arm. "I told you I was going to give you a lesson in humility," he said, blue eyes crinkling and sparkling. "If you show me that you've learned from this, I'll be much nicer afterwards the next time this happens."

 

With one last grin, he slipped out the door and closed it, locking Gavin inside.

 

Gavin stared at the door.

 

He was naked and locked up in a supply closet. His body was littered with hickeys and bruises, cuts and scrapes and reddened patches of skin. His ass was sore and sticky with a mixture of gun oil and come, and his hands were tied together with his own belt. His phone was in his pants pocket - pants which were now in Ryan's possession, along with the rest of clothes. The older man had even taken his shoes. His hands were bound in such a way that he wouldn't have been able to unpick the lock even if he'd had the tools for it, so he was basically stuck where he was until either Ryan relented and came back to let him out, or one of the others came in looking for something and found him instead. The way Ryan had grinned at him as he left had Gavin leaning towards the latter.

 

He couldn't bring himself to regret a single goddamned thing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's chapter 2, sorry I took so long in getting it out!
> 
> (How are both chapters for this story so far over 4,000 words, this is ridiculous)
> 
> Content warnings for smut, blowjobs, gunplay, anal insertion of a handgun, sort-of death threats, and an absurd amount of fluff and angst for a pwp fic.
> 
> Also, there will likely only be one more chapter after this, but there may be a fourth as well. Stay tuned for that.
> 
> Enjoy!

Gavin wandered into the armoury, thumbs shoved into the pockets of his jeans because they were too tight to accommodate his hands. Ray and Ryan were inside, sitting in companionable silence as they each disassembled and cleaned their various guns.

 

Ryan saw him enter, smiled, and reassembled the pistol he was working on, setting it down and picking up another. The new gun was black metal, and looked heavy, the barrel long and thick.

 

Gavin's head tilted. "Haven't seen that one before. It's new, isn't it?"

 

"It is."

 

With a smirk, Ryan's eyes locked with Gavin's as he picked up a file and began rasping it against the sight.

 

A full blown grin stretched across his face at Gavin's sudden intake of breath, the Brit's cheeks suffusing with colour.

 

"Oh. That's…" His eyes flicked over to Ray, who was largely ignoring them both, too absorbed in his own work to be paying them much attention. Gavin was inordinately thankful that this was the case.

 

"It is," Ryan repeated, voice a little lower and still grinning fiendishly.

 

Gavin's voice, in comparison, was suddenly higher, and sounded a bit strangled. "Well, alright then, good chat, I'll see you later." He turned around sharply, leaving the room with stiff strides as he forced down the swelling that had started in his jeans. Ryan's chuckle echoed after him, stymying his efforts somewhat and making his ears burn.

 

It had been a few weeks since Ryan had dragged him into that supply closet - and found several hours later by Geoff, who nearly put a bullet in Ryan before both men assured him what had happened was consensual. Geoff had stared at them both for a few seconds, then promptly walked off, muttering under his breath that Ryan's tactic better have worked otherwise he'd be suffering the mental image of them fucking for no good reason.

 

And it had worked. While the Brit was still plenty cocksure, at least now he'd developed the good sense to know when he should stop pushing. Though this did give rise to an odd game of flirting between him and Ryan - namely that in every spare moment he had at work (and even times he was meant to be working), Gavin would go and pester Ryan. Ryan, however, was incredibly good at keeping a straight face when he needed to, and gave Gavin no indication that his entirely unsubtle attempts at seduction were affecting him.

 

Obviously, though, they were, otherwise he wouldn't have just pulled the little stunt with the new pistol. Gavin wondered how long Ryan had been cleaning his vast assortment of weapons, waiting for him to show up. He felt a little vindicated knowing that Ryan hadn't been dismissing him entirely. Truth be told, after two weeks of nothing even slightly resembling an intimate moment between them, Gavin had been growing concerned that Ryan hadn't meant it when he'd said he wanted to be with Gavin again.

 

Gavin took a detour to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on his face and willing away the slight tent forming in his jeans before returning to his work station in the computer lab. When he got there, he found a sticky note attached to his keyboard.

 

_If you stay on your best behaviour for the rest of today, maybe I'll show you that new gun._

 

The Brit swallowed, folding up the note and putting it away before anyone else came in and saw it.

 

~* * *~

 

Gavin's attitude that afternoon was positively angelic. Tasks that he'd usually only undertake with a maximum amount of complaining were instead done with a smile, and he offered help to the others completely unbidden.

 

Everyone else found it extremely weird and they were sure that Gavin was up to something.

 

Everyone except Geoff, of course, who was still the only one who knew they had had sex. He cornered Ryan after the younger man came back from shaking down some of Geoff's 'business associates' for being late on their payments.

 

"You and Gavin're gonna bone again, aren't you?" he said accusingly.

 

Ryan shrugged broadly. "Hey, it's working, isn't it?"

 

"Yeah, but… don't do it here again, alright? I own this building, and I don't want either of you getting come anywhere near anything I own."

 

"Sure thing, Boss," he said with a grin, handing over a duffel containing the money he'd collected - everything that was owed, plus a hefty amount of interest. "I was planning on taking him back to mine tonight, anyway."

 

"Well, good. You do that."

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow at him and left without another word, swinging by the armoury to pick up his special gun, as well as a few other things he'd left there, before making his way to the computer lab.

 

"You just about finished up there, Gav?"

 

Gavin jumped at the sound of Ryan's voice, having been completely engrossed in his work. It wasn't anything particularly urgent, though, so he felt no guilt in rapidly closing all the programs he had open. He could easily finish what he'd been doing some other time. "Yep, all done," he replied, scrambling hastily out of his seat. "Where're we going?"

 

Ryan chuckled and tossed him the bright green motorcycle helmet he'd been holding. It impacted against Gavin's chest with a small thud.

 

"We're going for a ride."

 

~* * *~

 

Gavin had never actually ridden on a motorcycle before. He'd seen plenty in the garage - Ryan and Michael both had an assortment of different bikes. Even Ray had a Faggio, though Gavin was pretty sure he'd only bought it as a joke.

 

Ryan led him to a bike that Gavin knew was the older man's favourite - black, sleek, and built for speed. He picked up the helmet resting on the seat and put it on, turning and letting Gavin see the visage of a skull etched into the visor. It was, quite frankly, terrifying.

 

"Jesus, Ryan, that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

 

Ryan shrugged and straddled the bike, motioning Gavin to hop up behind him.

 

"This is so gay," Gavin muttered, climbing awkwardly onto the back of the bike.

 

The older man laughed. "And the fact that we'll be fucking in less than an hour isn't?"

 

"…Shut up."

 

Ryan pressed a finger against the clicker attached to one of the handlebars and the garage door slowly opened. He revved the engine a bit and rolled the bike smoothly out onto the street, then stopped for a moment.

 

"You ready?"

 

"Born ready, Rye," Gavin replied, telling himself firmly that no matter how fast Ryan decided to drive, he wasn't going to pussy out and put his arms around Ryan's waist. That was just undignified. Determined, he grabbed tightly onto the section of seat in front of him, a few inches shy of Ryan's ass. He felt a sudden urge to pinch the older man there, but held himself back.

 

Ryan's head turned towards him slightly. His expression was hidden beneath the skull design on his mirrored visor, but Gavin was sure that he was grinning madly. The Brit gulped.

 

The bike tore away from the curb with a suddenness that made Gavin yelp, arms immediately locking around Ryan's midsection like a vice. He couldn't hear Ryan's ensuing laughter over the roar of the engine, but he could feel it, reverberating through the older man's back into his chest.

 

They took turns at speeds that made Gavin's heart take up temporary residency in his throat. At least that went a ways to stop the scream of terror that was trying to claw its way out of him as the road whizzed past them at a forty-five degree angle.

 

Gradually, Gavin realised that Ryan really did know what he was doing. Once he'd ascertained that they weren't about to crash and die horribly, his death grip slackened until he was holding on to Ryan just enough to maintain his balance (and also maybe slightly because Ryan's back was broad and wonderful and he wanted to touch it). Now that he'd grow accustomed to the speed at which they were travelling, he was exhilarated, even laughing and whooping with delight as they ripped through some particularly tight turns.

 

Ryan brought the bike down to a purr outside a luxury high-rise, guiding it towards the underground parking. Gavin's neck craned as he looked up at the building, letting out an appreciative whistle.

 

"Looks like you make a damn sight more money than I do, Ryan."

 

The older man parked the bike and turned to look at him, taking his helmet off so Gavin could see his raised eyebrow. "With your skills, you could easily make millions if you just applied yourself a little more." He ran his hand through his helmet-mussed hair once, and it settled back into its usual perfect swoop. Gavin thought that was entirely unfair, knowing that when he took off his own helmet, his already unruly locks would tuft out every which way, and no amount of smoothing would flatten them out.

 

"Yeah, well…" Gavin trailed off, hopping off the bike and removing his helmet. Truth be told, he was perfectly happy with his current level of wealth. He still made well into six figures every year. He liked to splurge occasionally, he'd admit, but he didn't think he'd be able to constantly live in decadence.

 

Ryan swung off the bike gracefully, stacking both helmets on the seat and kicking down the stand. He motioned for Gavin to follow him to the exit, and before long they were riding the elevator to the top of the building.

 

Floor-to-ceiling windows afforded them a breathtaking view of the sun setting over Los Santos. The apartment was wide and open, which surprised Gavin - he would have assumed that Ryan would be more paranoid than that.

 

The decorations were sparse, yet still tasteful, and the apartment didn't seem all that empty despite the lack of anything approaching clutter.

 

Gavin looked around curiously, turning in a slow circle as he took in the designer couch, the giant TV ensconced in one of the walls, the plush rug on the floor, and, most importantly, the huge and extremely comfortable-looking bed that he could see through the open bedroom door.

 

By the time his gaze landed on Ryan once more, the older man was holding a gun.

 

 _The_  gun, Gavin realised with a delicious shiver, lips parting slightly as his eyes flew up to meet Ryan's.

 

Ryan smirked and stalked forward, raising his hand slightly and pressing the barrel against Gavin's hip at the exact same time their lips met. Gavin's hands flew upwards - one wrapping around the older man's back, the other tangling in his hair. He could feel the cold metal of the pistol through the thin material of his shirt, and he whined as Ryan started to slowly march him backwards, towards the bedroom. Gavin was starting to get hard already, gasping and twitching as Ryan suddenly pushed the gun lower between them to rub against the inside of Gavin's thigh. The blond chuckled at the reaction, rocking his hips forward slightly as they walked so that Gavin could feel the identical bulge growing in his pants. He bit at Gavin's lips with force just shy of hard enough to break the skin, then pressed his tongue into Gavin's mouth, kissing him deeply.

 

Gavin's hands tightened momentarily, then cramped themselves into the space between their chests, working at the zipper on Ryan's jacket. After a few seconds, the leather hit the carpet with a dull thud, the short sleeves of Ryan's black t-shirt showing off his muscular arms. Gavin let his hands roam along them appreciatively until Ryan pressed the gun deeper into his abdomen, prompting him to sit on the bed. His lips were red already, and Ryan wanted to see them stretch around either his cock or his gun - he honestly wasn't sure which he'd prefer.

 

The Brit tried to reach up and tug the hem of Ryan’s shirt out of his jeans, but Ryan batted his hands away, making a noise of warning. "Take your shirt off," he demanded, using just the lightest of touches to rub the barrel of the pistol against Gavin's crotch. Gavin whined at the feeling, and his fingers were quick to turn on the buttons of his shirt, almost pulling them free in his haste. Without being prompted, he wriggled out of his jeans as well, kicking off his socks and shoes so that he was just in his underwear.

 

"Now you have to take off your shirt, too," he said. "It's not fair of you to keep all of that hidden."

 

The gun pressed into his crotch again. "I  _have_ to, do I?" Ryan replied coolly. "D'you really think you're in a position to make demands?"

 

Gavin bit his lip and looked up at the older man through his lashes. "Please, Ryan."

 

Ryan tucked the gun away briefly before pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it in the corner. The gun flashed out again, pushing against Gavin's neck and forcing him onto his back. Ryan went with him, towering over him.

 

The sight of Ryan shirtless with jeans on and a gun in hand did more to Gavin than it had any real right to. "Thanks," he gasped as the gun touched against his ribcage, Ryan's mouth kissing at the spot on his neck where the muzzle had just been. Gavin's hands went to Ryan's back, revelling in the firm muscle under his fingertips. "Y'know, you should just not wear a shirt more often," he said, and Ryan chuckled.

 

"You know that you won't be able to work if you're just ogling me all day."

 

"I can multitask."

 

"Oh really?" Ryan asked, grinning devilishly. He pulled back slightly, tracing the gun over Gavin's sternum as his other hand drifted towards the Brit's crotch. "You can multitask, hm?" His hand slipped beneath the waistband of Gavin's boxers, massaging the younger man's cock. "Mind telling me that again?"

 

"Ryan, I-" Gavin groaned, back arching and head tipping back. "I can't c-concentrate when you do that," he gasped in a breathy rush as Ryan dragged the pad of his thumb over the head of Gavin's cock.

 

"Case in point," Ryan replied smugly, then yanked the younger man's boxers off. Gavin let himself be flipped over, pushing his ass into the air for Ryan's admiration.

 

And admire it he did, before plucking a bottle of lube from the nightstand to slick up the fingers of one hand. He pressed one finger into the younger man at the exact same time that he pressed the gun to the back of his neck, forcing Gavin's shoulders to lie flush against the mattress. Gavin whimpered and moaned as Ryan almost immediately added a second finger, then a third a few moments later. He gave the Brit a bare minimum amount of prep, then trailed the gun up his spine before letting it come to rest directly above where Ryan's fingers entered him. Gavin trembled.

 

Ryan pulled his fingers out slowly, earning him a quiet mewl of disappointment. He shifted the pistol so that the muzzle was pushed against Gavin's rim, then slathered the barrel with lube and pressed it in.

 

Gavin felt himself stretch slowly around the barrel as it forced its way into him, the tight ring of muscle burning. The shape was unusual, taller vertically than horizontally, but neither way could be considered insubstantial. He was sure that Ryan had selected a gun with the widest barrel possible, and the thought made him moan helplessly as his body began to accept the intrusion. It might not have been as thick as Ryan was, but the gun stretched him in an entirely different way, leaving him panting and almost sobbing as Ryan pushed it in deep enough for the muzzle to bump up against his prostate.

 

The older man's free hand held Gavin's shoulders against the bed, and, barely giving the Brit enough time to adjust, began to fuck him with the gun, drawing it almost all the way out before pushing it back in up to the trigger guard. Gavin moaned headily, back arched and head back, and Ryan grinned.

 

His motions were steady, hitting the Brit's prostate on every thrust, and Gavin quickly turned into a mess. His thighs quaked and his hips twitched, always chasing after the pistol and trying to get it buried deep inside him whenever Ryan began to pull it out of him. The noises he made, the little whimpers and mewls and broken whispers of Ryan's name, were driving the older man crazy, and he almost started groaning himself because of how wonderfully Gavin was spread out beneath him.

 

He pushed in particularly deep on a thrust, and Gavin could feel that Ryan's finger was nowhere near the trigger guard, like it should have been - no, it was curled around the trigger. Gavin had no clue whether the gun was actually loaded or not. Just because it hadn't been last time wasn't a guarantee that things would be the same now. He potentially had a loaded gun pressing into his prostate.

 

That thought shouldn't have made him moan as loudly as it did.

 

Ryan suddenly pulled on the trigger, and Gavin barely had time to even register his own fear before he felt the gun click inside him. All the same, he jerked forward involuntarily.

 

"F-Fuck," he whimpered, a bead of precome dripping onto the sheets below him.

 

"If you did have to go out, that's how you'd want it, isn't it?" Ryan mused, voice low and rough as he leaned over Gavin's back. "Being fucked open by my gun."

 

"God, Ryan-" Gavin moaned, far less terrified at Ryan's words than he really should have been. Besides, he was sure that Ryan didn't actually intend for it to be a threat.

 

Mostly. 

 

"Of course, I'd make sure you'd come first," Ryan murmured, smirk clear in his voice. "End on a high note."

 

"Ryan-" Gavin groaned again.

 

He laughed softly. "Don't worry, I'll only ever do that if you really annoy me. I don't want to clean blood out of my sheets unless I absolutely have to."

 

"I'm close, Rye," Gavin whimpered, and he could almost sense the smile stretching across the older man's face.

 

"Going to come without me even touching your cock, is that right?"

 

Gavin screwed his eyes shut, nodding and gasping breathlessly.  Ryan continued to work into him, and suddenly the Brit threw his head back with a cry, jetting his load against the sheets. His arms gave way and he buried his face into the pillows, panting harshly.

 

After giving him a few seconds, Ryan slowly pulled the gun out of him. Gavin's legs turned to jelly and he collapsed, shuddering. The older man gazed proudly at his work for a moment before turning away, placing the pistol to one side.

 

"Ryan?" Gavin asked tentatively, a vulnerable edge to his voice. Ryan picked up on it and turned back towards him.

 

"What's wrong?"

 

"…Please don't actually kill me," he whispered, not meeting the older man's eyes.

 

"Whoa, hey, that was only heat of the moment stuff. I got a bit carried away, I'm sorry," he assured, laying a hand on Gavin's shoulder. "Gavin, I wouldn't actually do that to you, unless you really wanted me to." He smiled. "And for what it's worth, I hope you don't. I'm actually starting to enjoy your company."

 

"I don't want you to," Gavin replied quickly, voice still small. "It's just, the work we do… I don't really see myself growing old, y'know? But I definitely don't want my death to be planned."

 

"I can understand that. I'm more of a blaze of glory kind of guy myself."

 

Gavin tried to smile, but the leftover endorphins draining from his system turned it into a watery mockery.

 

Ryan's response was as immediate as it was surprising. He drew Gavin into a warm embrace, hushing him gently and running a hand through the younger man's hair.

 

Gavin trembled and clutched at him, but didn't cry. "Wouldn't have picked you for a cuddler," he sniffed after a few seconds, managing a wobbly laugh.

 

"I'm not, usually." The older man was silent a moment, fingers still carding soothingly through Gavin's sex-mussed hair. "I'll be honest, I didn't expect to care about you as much as I do," he admitted.

 

The words stirred something in Gavin's chest, and his arms settled more naturally around Ryan, hugging him rather than clinging to him. Really, the whole scenario was incredibly intimate - especially considering they were both naked - and yet there was nothing sexual about it anymore. That had to mean they were more than just a casual fuck, right? Gavin certainly hadn't been with anyone else since they'd first had sex, and he liked to think it was a safe bet that Ryan hadn't, either. 

 

"So…" he ventured after a few moments of stillness. "Are we… together, then?"

 

Ryan hummed consideringly. "We could be. I mean, I don't really  _do_  dating, per se. But we don't even have to label it if we don't want to. We can just see where this goes and figure it out as we go along."

 

"…I'd like that."

 

Gavin felt the older man smile. "Alright then."

 

"That easy?"

 

"That easy," Ryan confirmed.

 

A matching smile formed on Gavin's face, quickly morphing into something more devious. "Well, we were kind of still in the middle of something, weren't we?" he purred, reaching down to Ryan's cock, which was still more than half hard. Ryan grunted and twitched at the unexpected contact. "Let me take care of that for you."

 

Ryan almost wanted to roll his eyes at Gavin for spoiling the tender moment, but secretly he was glad for it. He wasn't experienced with affection, he knew, and the fact that they were… whatever they were now was going to take a little getting used to.

 

Not to mention that the sight of Gavin taking his gun so beautifully had left him incredibly turned on. "Please, be my guest," he murmured, rolling onto his back to give Gavin easier access. Gavin went with him, pulling impatiently at the older man's zipper, then hooking his fingers under the waistband of Ryan's boxer-briefs and tugging them down. Tossing the jeans behind him, Gavin straddled Ryan's legs, getting a decent hold on his cock before slowly starting to pump it back to full hardness. Once it was standing proud again, Gavin shifted himself further back, settling between Ryan's legs and swiping his tongue over the older man's tip. Ryan's hips bucked up slightly.

 

"God, you look so good down there." Ryan figured that Gavin was likely still feeling a little vulnerable, and probably more than a little hungry for praise and validation, fuelled by a need to prove himself. And Ryan wasn't going to deny him that, especially when what he was saying was the truth.

 

Gavin smiled up at him, briefly taking the head of his cock into his mouth before pulling off again. "Haven't been able to stop thinking about sucking you off," Gavin said, hot breath ghosting over sensitive flesh. Ryan cursed as Gavin continued to lavish him with feather-light touches. "Gonna make you come with my mouth."

 

"Gavin, you better not be trying to tease me," Ryan told him with mock severity.

 

A Cheshire grin stretched across Gavin's face, his earlier vulnerability gone and his usual cockiness back in place. Ryan marvelled at his ability to simply bounce back like that. "Wouldn't dream of it, Rye," he replied innocently, then took the older man into his mouth.

 

The Brit wished he had the skill to deep-throat Ryan in one go. As it was, though, he only got about halfway down before he started to struggle. After all, he had a lot to work with.

 

Ryan raked the fingers of one hand through Gavin's hair, enjoying the soft feel and how it made the already wild locks even wilder. Gavin glanced up at him through his lashes as he slowly began to bob his head, doing his absolute best to take more of Ryan in on each pass. He clearly didn't have much experience giving blowjobs, though, and didn't get much further down. He whined in frustration, and the vibration from it travelled down Ryan's length, making the older man groan quietly.

 

"That's more than fine, Gavin, just use your hand for the rest," he panted, fingers drawing aimless designs over the younger man's scalp. Gavin complied, circling his thumb and forefinger around Ryan's cock just below the seal of his mouth. He had a few false starts trying to set up his pace, but quickly developed a steady rhythm, the motion of his hands mirroring his lips.

 

"So good, you're doing so well," Ryan praised, fingers tightening slightly in Gavin's hair. The Brit hummed happily, pleased that Ryan was enjoying himself, and the older man groaned again, hips twitching upward. He continued to murmur words of encouragement the entire way through, and it wasn't long before he felt his impending orgasm creep up on him.

 

Ryan tried to stop himself from bucking too harshly into the Brit's mouth, he really did, but he'd never really been one for self-control. Gavin clung on as best he could, somehow managing not to choke.

 

"Gavin," he hissed, the sound petering off into a groan before he came down Gavin's throat. He shuddered and moaned at the way Gavin swallowed around him, making sure not to spill a single drop. He continued to suck until Ryan was completely spent, then pulled off, coughing slightly and rubbing at the corner of his lips. Ryan reached down and pulled Gavin up into a searing kiss, not caring that he could taste himself on Gavin's tongue. He pulled away after a few heated moments to grin at the Brit on top of him. "Yeah, this is definitely a thing now."

 

The younger man smiled broadly, then let his head droop onto Ryan's chest, exhausted as he draped himself over the older man. Sweat clung to them both, sticking them together. Gavin wrinkled his nose.

 

"We're kinda gross. We should probably shower or something."

 

Ryan grunted, laying a heavy arm across Gavin's waist and essentially pinning the smaller man to his side. "Nah, we're fine. We can do that later."

 

"Ryan-" Gavin started, trying to squirm out of the older man's grip. Ryan just held him tighter, smiling slightly with his eyes closed.

 

"Shh. Sleep now. Shower later."

 

The Brit huffed, his attempt at escape thwarted by Ryan's muscular arm. "Ugh, fine."

 

"See, now you're seeing reason."

 

"Lazy prick," Gavin muttered, even as he closed his eyes and tried not to yawn.

 

Ryan hummed noncommittally and within minutes, both of them were fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because they're hardened criminals that fuck each other's brains out doesn't mean they're not also the world's biggest dorks okay I will fucking fight you on this


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! I'm such a romantic. 
> 
> Content warnings for absurd amounts of fluff in the beginning, then plenty of sexytimes with gunplay.

"Pass us the cereal, would you, Rye-Bread?" Gavin made grabby hands at the older man, sitting at the breakfast table of Ryan's apartment.

 

"Why, are your legs broken?" Ryan replied, humour in his voice as he bit into a piece of toast.

 

 _" _Ryan__ , _"_ the Brit whined petulantly, pouting and still reaching out. Ryan sighed, but stood, heading towards the pantry. "And none of your bullshite health cereal," Gavin called after him, otherwise quietly admiring the curve of Ryan's bare back and the way that his pyjama pants sat so low on his hips.

 

"You mean the one whose main ingredient isn't sugar?"

 

"Get me my damn Froot Loops, Ryan."

 

"Uh huh," Ryan murmured, fingers pointedly skipping over the sugar-laden cereal and pulling down the box of honeyed bran, plunking it on the table. Gavin made a face, but before he could open his mouth, Ryan told him sternly, "You want your shitty artery-clogging cereal, you get up and get it yourself."

 

Gavin grumbled as he grabbed the bran and poured it into his bowl, muttering darkly through every mouthful. Ryan grinned and returned to his toast.

 

The Brit had unofficially moved in with him just over four months previous, in the sense that he never returned to his own apartment anymore except to collect the mail. Gavin refused to accept the situation entirely, saying all his things were still there, and that he only spent his nights at Ryan's because the older man's bed was much more comfortable than his own. Ryan just rolled his eyes at the younger man's convoluted reasoning, knowing that he'd come around eventually.

 

Moodily, Gavin swallowed his last spoonful with a hateful glare at the bowl.

 

"Was that so hard?" Ryan simpered, and the Brit's glare shifted to him.

 

"I'm not a child."

 

"Maybe you should stop acting like one, then."

 

Gavin poked out his tongue and Ryan laughed. The Brit struggled to keep the scowl on his face. "Why d'you get us up so early, anyway? It's not even seven yet," he muttered, trying to maintain a front of annoyance.

 

"Well, it gives us plenty of time for more adult things before we go to work."

 

The younger man's stomach fluttered. "Oh yeah?"

 

"Yeah," Ryan replied simply, biting slowly into another piece of toast. Gavin twitched at Ryan's deliberate pace.

 

"Surely you can eat faster than that," he blurted after two minutes, in which time Ryan had barely eat half the toast.

 

"I'll get indigestion if I eat too quickly," Ryan replied innocently. "I won't be any use to you then."

 

"C'mon, it has to be cold by now, d'you really even want to eat the rest of it?" Gavin urged, and Ryan raised an eyebrow.

 

"Gavin," he said slowly, "If you rush me, I'm gonna rush you."

 

Gavin promptly shut his mouth, putting his hands between his knees in an attempt to stop their impatient jiggling. He nearly let out a crow of triumph when Ryan finally popped the last morsel of toast into his mouth. He took a large gulp of water as Gavin darted from his seat, planting a quick kiss on the older man's cheek before beaming hugely at him and dashing off in the direction of the bedroom.

 

Ryan shook his head fondly, gathering the breakfast dishes and putting them in the sink. They could be dealt with properly later.

 

By the time he made it to the bedroom, Gavin was already naked and hard, splayed out across the bed. The Brit grinned at him, but Ryan schooled his face into impassivity, crossing over to his cupboard. He rifled through his clothing, like he was deciding what to wear that day, and Gavin let out an impatient sound.

 

Ryan noticeably slowed down.

 

Gavin immediately changed tactics. He stroked his fingers along the underside of his cock, letting out a soft moan. His hips canted up in a way he was sure would catch in Ryan's periphery, and a contented sigh passed over his lips, head lolling back against the covers.

 

It was a truly masterful performance.

 

"Behave," Ryan called over his shoulder, and Gavin stopped with a slight whimper.

 

"Ryan, please," he begged softly, and the older man turned with a supercilious smile.

 

"There's the magic word."

 

"Seriously?" Gavin shot him an incredulous look. "You're such a tit sometimes, Ryan."

 

Ryan raised both eyebrows and pointed his thumb at the door. "I could go."

 

The Brit shook his head quickly. "Nono, it's fine. Just come over here. Please?"

 

With continuingly measured movements, Ryan opened one of the other cupboard doors, pulling open a drawer at just above waist height. This time, Gavin kept his mouth shut, not least of all because he knew that drawer was where Ryan kept his special gun.

 

They didn't always use it with sex - sometimes, they felt like being lazy and languorous with each other, and having a firearm in the bed at such times was counterproductive.

 

When they  _did_  use the gun, on very rare occasions Ryan would leave it loaded. If he did, the farthest he'd go was to have Gavin suck it, too concerned that something might accidentally happen with the way that Gavin tended to writhe when there was something pounding into his ass.

 

This was one of those times.

 

Gavin licked his lips with anticipation. Not knowing whether the gun was loaded at any given time only served to turn him on even more, which was the primary reason why the older man would sometimes leave the bullets in.

 

Ryan stalked towards the bed, a predator clad in sweatpants. The pistol stroked the inside of Gavin's calf, and the Brit jumped at the cool touch of the metal. Goosebumps sprung up on his skin as the barrel travelled higher, gently trailing over his inner thigh, then bumping over his hipbones and digging lightly into his abdomen. It was still too cold for Ryan to actually tease his cock with it.

 

The older man hovered over him, blond hair falling around his smirking face.

 

Time to warm it up a little.

 

He let the gun continue its journey upwards, finally coming to rest underneath Gavin's chin. The Brit swallowed convulsively as Ryan laid the barrel flat against his throat, the cold nipping at his skin. Their lips met once more, Gavin's hands obediently at his sides while his mouth moved hungrily against Ryan's.

 

"God, you're incredible," Ryan groaned, burying his free hand in Gavin's hair as the younger man purposefully bucked his hips up, bare cock pressing up against the front of Ryan's sweatpants, which were rapidly tenting.

 

Ryan slid the gun down from Gavin's neck, finger outside the trigger guard as it crept over the Brit's rapidly beating heart. He licked his lips, a small smile flickering at the edges.

 

Gavin suddenly batted the pistol to the side, then grabbed the barrel, twisting. The gun was wrenched from Ryan's grip, and he was too surprised to stop Gavin from flipping them both over, gun now pointed at its owner's chest as the Brit straddled him.

 

Not knowing whether the Brit knew the gun was loaded, Ryan put his hands up in mock-surrender, raising an eyebrow. It wasn't like he thought Gavin would actually be stupid enough to fire the gun without checking first, but it never paid to be too incautious. 

 

The Brit's hands were firm and steady on the pistol, looking like he knew how to use it. "My turn," he said with a smile.

 

Ryan couldn't deny that he found the sight of Gavin holding a gun whilst naked incredibly erotic, and he grinned back. He'd known this was coming for quite a while - Gavin might have calmed a little since their first sexual encounter several months previous, but the younger man had an arrogance to him that Ryan doubted he'd ever be rid of. He was glad the moment was finally here. It had been a long time since Ryan had let someone else take control, so it was going to prove to be a very interesting experience. "Be careful with that thing," he warned.

 

Gavin looked serious for long enough that Ryan was convinced he wasn't going to do anything dumb, then a diabolical grin stretched across his face.

 

"I'm always careful," he replied flippantly, then shifted the pistol to one hand, pressed it against Ryan's temple, and crushed their lips together in a demanding kiss.

 

The older man responded eagerly, hands coming up to caress the dip of Gavin's spine.

 

"Hands to yourself, Ryan," Gavin suddenly growled, with far more authority than Ryan would have ever expected from him. With only the slightest sign of surprise, he complied, laying his hands flat against the bed as Gavin resumed ravaging his mouth. He ached to hold the younger man closer to him, letting out a small noise of frustration as his fingers twisted into the sheets. It only served to fuel Gavin's fire, and his lips left Ryan's to suck a mark against the sensitive spot just beneath the older man's ear. His unencumbered hand unceremoniously groped at the front of Ryan's sweatpants, making the blond swear at the unexpectedness of the action. Ryan's hips lifted slightly off the bed, and Gavin took the hint, hooking his fingers under the older man's waistband and yanking down. The gun shifted to Ryan's throat as he kicked his sweatpants off, and Gavin snatched the lube from the bedside table. He popped the cap with his thumb, squirting a generous amount onto Ryan's straining cock. The older man cursed again at the sudden cool touch, hips jumping up involuntarily. Gavin just laughed and started to slowly pump his hand along Ryan's shaft, still keeping the gun pressed to his neck. Ryan very quickly changed his tune, Adam's apple bobbing underneath the muzzle as he moaned.

 

Once his hand was coated liberally in the lube now covering Ryan's cock, Gavin pulled away, reaching behind himself as he leaned forward, drawing Ryan into another kiss as he began to finger himself. Ryan's hips bucked up once more, this time seeking friction, but Gavin moved himself just out of range. The Brit's thighs and abdomen started to burn with the effort of holding his torso almost horizontal without the support of either of his arms, but the desperate frustration on Ryan's face made it worth it.

 

Hiding a sly smile, Gavin let his eyes flutter shut, a small moan passing his lips as he slipped a second finger inside himself, years of practice allowing him to almost immediately find his prostate. He tipped his head back and arched his spine, more pleasured sounds escaping him as he added a third finger, slowly stretching himself.

 

"Gavin, c'mon," Ryan groaned, fingers twitching with desire against the covers.

 

"What's that? You want me on your cock, do you?" Gavin braced his gun arm against the bed, aiming again at Ryan's temple as he kissed the older man hotly. "Want to feel me all hot and tight, and watch me fuck myself 'til I come all over you?" Little kisses and bites trailed their way along Ryan's jaw between words, Gavin's voice a little breathy with the way he was trying to do everything at once.

 

"Fuck, Gavin, please." Ryan's voice shook slightly. Usually, he would have found Gavin’s dirty talk amusing rather than arousing, but this time it just made his hips twitch upward for the umpteenth time.

 

Gavin finally took pity on him, pulling his fingers out of himself with a soft sound before sinking onto the older man's cock in a single motion. Ryan struggled to not immediately start fucking up into Gavin, but he managed it. The Brit straightened up, levelling the gun against Ryan's throat as he adjusted. Slowly, but steadily building his rhythm, Gavin began to rock his hips, working his way up to a point where he was bouncing on Ryan's cock.

 

The older man's knuckles were white as they clenched around the sheets, and he couldn't help thrusting up into the younger man every time he sank back down on Ryan's cock. The metal of the gun, now warm from his skin, seemed to almost burn against his neck.

 

He felt Gavin's finger tighten on the trigger, and he tried to twist away, to shout a warning that the gun was actually loaded - he couldn't believe that Gavin hadn't asked about it, couldn't believe that he hadn't said anything himself - Gavin had already squeezed.

 

Ryan gasped as the gun clicked against his throat.

 

His eyes met Gavin's, confused. Gavin looked down at him, then slowly opened his free hand, letting the clip drop onto the covers.

 

"You didn't really think it was loaded this whole time, did you?" Gavin asked innocently, maintaining the expression for about three seconds before a shit-eating grin stretched across his face.

 

"Jesus Christ, Gavin." Ryan couldn't help but laugh. "You're such an asshole."

 

"Don't tell me you don't love it," Gavin replied cheekily, grinding his ass down on Ryan's cock. And indeed, rather than going soft after what had just transpired, Ryan was harder than ever, groaning as Gavin rolled against him.

 

"Such an asshole," he repeated, and flipped them both over, knocking the pistol from Gavin's hand. It fell to the covers, immediately forgotten as Ryan pushed Gavin's legs up to his chest, thrusting gently into the Brit. He wrapped his hand around the younger man's cock, pumping it in tandem with his slow thrusts. Gavin pressed his head back against the pillow, moaning, and Ryan nipped and kissed at his exposed neck before letting his mouth travel higher, lips locking with Gavin's. The Brit hummed happily, shifting his lower half until Ryan hit his prostate on the downward thrust. He groaned. "Fuck, you're perfect. So perfect for me."

 

"Just for you," Gavin promised, then cried out as Ryan suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting rapidly into the Brit until he was spurting messily over his own stomach. Ryan groaned as Gavin clenched around him, his hips shuddering to a gradual standstill as he filled that tight space with his own release. He went limp, head resting against Gavin's collarbone as he caught his breath.

 

"Goddamn, you have no idea what you do to me," he murmured.

 

Gavin grinned sleepily at him, kissing the side of his cheek. "I might have an idea."

 

Ryan chuckled, slowly pulling out of the Brit and snuggling against his side. Gavin twisted slightly so they were facing each other, planting a lazy kiss on the older man's lips. Ryan smiled and wrapped his arms around Gavin, closing his eyes.

 

"Hey, no napping yet," Gavin protested, shoving at Ryan's shoulder and trying futilely to pull free of his grip. "We can nap when I'm not covered in come."

 

The older man just made a displeased noise and held Gavin closer.

 

"Ryan, c'mon," Gavin complained, chewing his lip in thought. A grin suddenly suffused his face, and he placed his mouth next to Ryan's ear. "Hey Ryan," he purred, feeling the older man perk up at the sultry tone of his voice. "If you get hard again, I'll suck you off in the shower, yeah?"

 

Gavin laughed at the almost comical speed with which Ryan leapt from the bed.

 

"That's what I thought."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~If you can't tell I have a thing for Ryan being sleepy and adorable after sex~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> So I have one more chapter planned for this fic, but past that I can't really think of much else that would fit, even though I do really want to write some more in this AU. So, if you have any ideas that you think would fit, let me know and I might just write another chapter containing it. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness, I've been transitioning from a part-time to a full-time position at work, and that's been a bit hectic to get sorted. Hopefully I'll get into the swing of things soon, though. :)
> 
> Content warnings for rough sex, gunplay, blindfolds.

"So," Ryan said, gazing down at the Brit snuggled into his side.

 

"So," Gavin agreed, smiling sleepily before yawning.

 

"Last night was fun," Ryan continued.

 

Gavin's grin grew wider. "Yeah, it was."

 

"You handled that gun pretty well," Ryan mused. "Like you'd used one before."

 

"I've been to the range a few times."

 

"You any good?"

 

Gavin shrugged broadly. "Well, I don't like to brag-"

 

"You love to brag," Ryan intercepted, grinning. "It's a habit I can't seem to break you of."

 

The Brit shoved Ryan's shoulder. "Shut up, you prick. Yeah, I'm a decent shot. Why?" He perked up a little, propping himself up on his elbows. "D'you want me to go on jobs with you?"

 

Ryan laughed openly. "God, no. Your talents lie with computers. You'd just end up getting shot if you tried to help me."

 

Gavin pouted, put out.

 

"The reason I'm asking is because I'd still like you to know how to properly defend yourself. I might not be comfortable with having you in the front lines - and I know Geoff would never put you there in the first place for the same reasons - but if a situation arises where you need that type of skill I'd feel much better knowing that you can take care of it. So, what weapons experience do you have?"

 

"Not much," Gavin admitted begrudgingly. "Buddy of mine back in England was in the army a spell, he taught me most of what I know about guns. But that really was just a few goes at a firing range."

 

The older man smiled deviously. "We're going to change that."

 

~* * *~

 

"The first thing I'm going to teach you is proper gun maintenance," Ryan informed him once they had arrived at the armoury at the Fake AH Crew's headquarters. They didn't have any actual work to do that day, so they would be able to take as long as they wanted. "You could be the best shot in the world, but that'd be worth nothing if your gun jams because you haven't taken good care of it."

 

"Aw, Rye-Bread," Gavin whined, slouching and already sounding bored.

 

Ryan smirked. "I thought you might be a little reluctant, so I've worked out a little… incentive for you." He pulled out a very familiar-looking gun, black metal with the front sight filed off. "This is the gun you'll be practicing on. I'll demonstrate how to disassemble and reassemble the gun, then you'll do the same to the best of your abilities."

 

Gavin's pupils dilated slightly and he swallowed. "And what about after I do that?"

 

Amusement and a slight hint of dark arousal glinted in Ryan's eyes. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

 

"But… wait, didn't you tell me Geoff said we weren't allowed to have sex here?"

 

Ryan's face was the picture of innocence. "I don't recall any conversation of the sort ever occurring."

 

"Yes you did!" Gavin exclaimed, pointing at the older man's chest.

 

"Nah."

 

"I wanted to blow you under my desk when you were helping me the other day and you said no, and that was your reason for it!"

 

"Yeah, well, okay, that was different. Way too much chance someone would walk in on us, for one."

 

"Like they could walk in on us in here?" Gavin challenged, and with a roll of his eyes, Ryan clicked the lock on the armoury door.

 

" _Second_ , there'll be no dicks involved. I'll only be using my fingers and the gun on you."

 

"Somehow, I don't think Geoff will consider that a valid loophole."

 

"Ah, fuck Geoff," Ryan replied brazenly. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." He hefted the gun a little. "Here, I'll show you what you need to do."

 

The Brit gave him a trepidatious look, but ultimately turned his attention to Ryan's hands.

 

"First, you hit the mag release." Ryan showed him the small button at the base of the trigger, and pressed it. The clip popped out, already empty, and he set it on the table. "Next, pull the slide back, make sure you're pushing up on the slide stop or otherwise it'll just snap back." He pulled the slide back as far as it would go, then indicated to the slide stop once he'd clicked it in place. He tapped at a narrow opening in the slide. "This is the ejection port."

 

"That's where the spent casings come out of," Gavin said promptly, feeling like he should at least show he was engaging with the lesson.

 

Ryan smiled. "Exactly. You'll also need to check it when you're cleaning, to see if there's any bullets or other obstructions in the chamber. You can just stick your finger in there for that. Then just hit the slide release." He showed Gavin another button, then pressed it to allow the slide to clack back into place.

 

"To actually take the slide off, you need to pull the trigger, then press the two takedown levers on either side." He demonstrated, pulling the slide away and setting the grip frame down on the table before showing Gavin the underside of the slide. "A few more things to take out here - the guide rod and recoil spring…" he removed a thick bolt nestled inside a spring, "…and finally the barrel," he finished, tipping the slide over onto his hand and letting the barrel fall onto his palm. "Make sense?"

 

Gavin nodded.

 

"This is as much as you'd usually disassemble it for cleaning, which is essentially wiping any dust away and then making sure everything's properly greased." He picked up a small bottle of gun oil and tapped it against the tabletop for emphasis. "Reassembling is, predictably, pretty much the same process in reverse. Barrel in, guide rod and recoil spring after it - make sure that goes all the way in, there's actually two recesses that it can sit in and you'll want the deeper one." He picked up the grip frame and showed Gavin where to line it up against the slide. "You've got receiver rails here, so just make sure they're aligned properly, pull the slide all the way back, then to the rest position, put the clip back in, and you're done." He held the gun out. "Got it?"

 

"Yep," Gavin replied confidently, taking the gun.

 

With a grin, Ryan made a broad gesture with his hands. "Off you go then. Take your time, I don't expect you to be able to do it in under ten seconds off the bat."

 

Wordlessly, Gavin focused his attention on the gun, already chewing on his lip in concentration as he hit the mag release. Ryan stood back to let him work, having decided to only step in if Gavin looked like he was struggling. A small burst of pride swelled in Ryan's chest as Gavin stumbled just a little, but ultimately was able the take the gun apart and put it back together without the older man having to interject once.

 

Gavin slotted the clip into place and set the gun down with a thunk, giving Ryan a triumphant look.

 

The older man nodded slowly. "Well done. You made pretty good time, and you didn't rush yourself." Gavin preened, and Ryan couldn't help himself. "You can easily do better, though. Again."

 

"What?" Gavin squawked indignantly. "But you promised me you'd get me off with the gun once I was done!"

 

"And you're not done yet," Ryan replied evenly. "Again."

 

"But-"

 

_" _Again._ "_

 

Grumbling to himself the entire time, Gavin disassembled and reassembled the gun again.

 

And again.

 

And again.

 

"Ryan, I've been doing this for  _ages_ , c'mon," Gavin groaned as he picked up the gun for the umpteenth time.

 

"It's only been a few hours," Ryan replied dismissively, and Gavin just groaned louder. It was clear, though, that Gavin was starting to get truly fed up with it, and Ryan took pity on him. "Alright, finish this one off, then I'll have one last challenge for you, okay?"

 

Gavin perked up immediately, the gun coming apart easily in his hands. Putting it back together again took him a little longer, but soon he was slamming the gun down against the table victoriously.

 

"Very good," Ryan praised, voice taking on a seductive edge, and the mild semi Gavin had been sporting since the start of the exercise twitched. He placed his hands flat in the table, shivering as he heard Ryan's deliberate footsteps closing in behind him. His head tipped back involuntarily as he felt the warmth radiating off the older man, now directly behind him. 

 

"I'm going to blindfold you," Ryan told him. "Then, you're going to pick up the gun, and you'll disassemble it and put it back together again without being able to see it."

 

Gavin nodded, licking his lips. "You gonna give me some sort of time limit, or something?"

 

Ryan chuckled behind him. "Something like that," he murmured, his voice suddenly low and compelling as he placed his mouth next to Gavin's ear and continued, "I'm going to be fingering you the entire time, and if you can reassemble the gun before you come, I'll take it and fuck you with it."

 

A small whimper slipped from Gavin's lips and he felt his cock grow harder, heat coiling in his stomach from anticipation.

 

The older man laughed again. "I take it you accept the challenge, then?" he asked teasingly, spreading one large hand over Gavin's denim-clad ass and squeezing. Gavin whimpered again as Ryan's middle finger pressed teasingly into the cleft of his ass, and nodded quickly.

 

"Yeah, I can do it."

 

"It isn't just your pride saying that, is it?" Ryan all but purred, humour evident in his tone as he moulded himself against the younger man's back, one hand reaching around to knead the front of the Brit's pants. "I'd hate for your arrogance to get the better of you."

 

"No," Gavin replied earnestly, fingers gripping tight at the edge of the table. "I really can do it, Ryan. I've been practicing so much, I'm ready, please." His voice was firm, not even a trace of his trademark glib egotism present.

 

Ryan continued to sound amused. "Since you asked so nicely."

 

Darkness descended over Gavin's vision as Ryan pulled a blindfold from his pocket and slipped it over the younger man's eyes, knotting it securely. He stifled a gasp at the change, his other senses suddenly magnified, the warmth of Ryan's body more intense. If he concentrated he could hear the older man's steady breathing.

 

"Pick up the gun, Gavin."

 

The Brit jumped a little, then groped around blindly across the table before his fingers closed around cool metal. He was just about to start when Ryan's hand snaked around to his front once more, cupping him briefly before undoing the younger man's belt, button and zipper. Fumbling for a moment, Gavin readjusted his grip on the gun and got to work.

 

So did Ryan.

 

Gavin let out a short yelp as Ryan yanked his pants down just far enough to expose his ass, leaving them the majority of the way still on. There was a scrape of glass against wood as the older man snatched up the gun cleaning oil he'd left on the table, deftly unscrewing the cap and pouring oil into his fingers. Gavin panted dryly, hands trembling a little as he hit the magazine release and slid the clip out of the pistol. He almost dropped the gun again as a slicked finger pushed into him, his own fingers clamping tight around the moulded grip as he fought the urge to just lay his upper body against the table so that Ryan could have his way with him.

 

He forced his death grip on the gun to relax, fingers searching for the slide stop before pulling the slide itself back. Poking around inside the chamber, Gavin found nothing, so he pressed the slide release and let the slide click back into place. His right forefinger curled around the trigger, and he clicked it in with a jerk as Ryan slid a second digit into him. A quiet curse escaped him and he heard Ryan chuckle.

 

Getting the slide off turned out to be a little troublesome, namely that it was difficult to focus with the way Ryan's fingers were moving inside him, slowly stretching him.

 

All that Gavin could hear was the components of the pistol clicking and scraping against one another in his slightly shaking hands, Ryan's fingers sliding smoothly, slickly out of his hole, and his own harsh, panting breaths as he tried to ignore the way the older man was assaulting his prostate. He needed to concentrate and Ryan was making things more than difficult.

 

Finally, after several frustrating minutes, the slide came loose, and Gavin let go of the takedown levers, nearly slamming the grip frame down on the table with the jerkiness of his movements. He clamped on hand around the top of the slide, holding it bottom facing up. His fingers searched blindly for the guide rod, his blindness making him slow. Removing the guide rod proved to be a clumsy affair, and Gavin cursed as he accidentally knocked the metal end painfully against one of his knuckles, no doubt leaving a bruise. He cursed again as Ryan suddenly thrust his fingers into Gavin with a sharp series of pumps, hitting his pleasure spot every time, before settling back into his taunting rhythm. Hands still trembling, Gavin slipped the barrel from the slide and let it drop to the table, already exhausted.

 

Ryan laughed quietly behind him. "You've got to put it back together again as well, remember."

 

The Brit moaned for more than one reason, shoulders slumped as he cast about for barrel again. He actually managed to slot the barrel back into place with relative ease, but the guide rod and recoil spring proved more challenging than anticipated. He whined in frustration as his third attempt was as successful as the first two, guide rod refusing to clip into its recess. Ryan was unceasingly unhelpful.

 

Despite Gavin's unspoken pleas for more, the older man continued to tease him with only two fingers, nowhere near enough to fulfil Gavin's desire to be filled. The Brit knew the only way to get actual satisfaction was to finish assembling the gun, which was somehow infinitely harder than taking it apart had been. He swore and panted and arched, but Ryan was relentless, constantly reminding Gavin to keep going in a sultry voice that in only really served to make Gavin's condition worse.

 

Gavin's knees had started to shake by the time he eventually clicked the guide rod into its slot, and he whimpered at the prospect of how long it would take him to properly line the slide up with the receiver rails on the grip frame. Getting the clip in after would be relatively easy, but he knew that getting there would be the difficult part. It would be crushingly disappointing to have gotten so close only to end up failing.

 

He bit his lip so hard that he tasted blood in an effort to help him focus. It actually helped slightly, brow furrowing above the blindfold as his fingers searched determinedly for the grip frame of the gun. He found it, dragged it towards himself, and decided it would be easier to line of the two components of the gun on the table rather than holding both above it. He inched the pieces towards each other, constantly checking how close the rails on each piece of the gun were to one another. Eventually he got them in range, his thighs quivering visibly as he fought off his impending orgasm. Small, desperately pleasured sobs slipped past his lips as he tried to get the receiver rails to accept the slide, only for them to skate off one another over and over again.

 

He almost started to cry with joy when the slide actually settled in place, his grip white-knuckled as he dragged the slide all the way back before letting it settle back into the rest position. He cast around clumsily for the clip, grabbed it, and fumbled it into place. He dropped the reassembled gun on the table, falling forward and whining at Ryan for more.

 

"Ryan- Ryan, please-" he gasped, short fingernails digging into the table as he struggled to hold himself together. "It's done, I did it, please!"

 

"Excellent job, Gavin. You've more than earned your reward."

 

Ryan slowly pulled his fingers from Gavin's hole, causing the younger man to wail thinly, clenching around nothing as he waited desperately to be filled. The blond made short work of slicking up the barrel of the gun, and Gavin let out a low, satisfied sound as it was gradually pushed into him.

 

Gavin pressed his forehead against the table, trying to catch his breath as the stretch seemed to set his entire being on fire. Ryan didn't give him even a moment of respite, suddenly shoving the last inch or so of the gun in so that it ground against Gavin's prostate. His back arched and he cried out as Ryan pumped the gun in and out of him at an almost brutal pace. A long, loud moan escaped him, and he was distantly grateful that the armoury door was so thick that it was basically soundproof. He knew there was no way he would have been able to keep himself quiet. Stars danced behind his eyelids, and it didn't even matter anymore that he was blindfolded because he wouldn't have been able to see anything regardless. Ryan grabbed a fistful of his hair, just above the piece of cloth wound over the Brit's eyes, giving himself a bit more leverage so that he could fuck the gun into Gavin all the harder.

 

Within seconds, Gavin was screaming the older man's name as he coated the inside of his boxers with thick spurts of come. He slumped against the table with a soft groan. A growing ache slowly radiated out from his abused backside as Ryan pulled the gun out of him, but it felt so satisfying that Gavin didn't care that he'd be sore for days.

 

The older man set the gun to the side, hands tender on Gavin's back as the younger man continued to lie boneless against the wood. "You okay, Gavin?"

 

He managed a nod, and Ryan gently removed the blindfold, smoothing the Brit's wild hair. Gavin smiled tiredly, eyes closed, and Ryan used one end of the blindfold to clean him up before wiping the gun down. He then tossed the soil fabric in the dirty rags bin tucked under the table before returning his attention to Gavin.

 

"Can you stand?"

 

"Yeah, I… jus' gimme a sec," Gavin muttered, dragging himself into an upright position. He groaned as he straightened up, his sore ass protesting at the movement.

 

Ryan pulled Gavin's pants up for him, seeing as the younger man still seemed a little too sluggish to take care of it himself, then gathered him into his arms. The older man was still half-hard, and Gavin stirred.

 

"Wait, you haven't…"

 

Ryan shushed him fondly. "Don't worry about it."

 

"But…"

 

"You can owe me one, okay? You've earned a bit of rest."

 

Gavin nodded, curling against Ryan's chest, making the older man smile. He rubbed soft circles onto Gavin's back, quietly humming the tune to some song he'd heard on the radio, and the Brit blinked groggily, trying to clear the haze of exhaustion that had settled over his mind.

 

The older man's body was warm and strong against his, though, and he couldn't stop himself from drifting off, falling asleep against Ryan's chest despite still being on his feet.

 

He jolted himself awake about twenty minutes later, Ryan's fingers still describing random designs over his shoulders. He felt a little more refreshed, but the come in his underwear had now dried into an uncomfortable flaky mess. He wrinkled his nose.

 

"Hey, Rye?" he asked, voice crackly. He cleared his throat. "Can we go home now? I feel really gross."

 

Ryan chuckled, fetching the gun from the table and tucking it away before leading them both to the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's a thing I just realised I forgot to actually post _w h oops_
> 
> Content warnings for smut, Dom/sub dynamics, orgasm denial, and a buttload of (read: actually just two) blowjobs.

"Ryan, entertain me. I'm bored."

 

Gavin whined like a five year old, draping himself over the edge of the table and pouting up at the older man.

 

Ryan shot an annoyed scowl at him, but otherwise ignored the Brit. For the first nine months of their relationship, Gavin had been true to his word, becoming more humble about his talents and accomplishments, and just being more considerate of his co-workers in general. The past few weeks, however, had seen Gavin acting even more petulant than before the fateful night when Ryan had dragged him into that supply closet. Oddly enough, from what Ryan could tell, he was the only one Gavin was displaying this increase in irritating behaviour towards. Normally, Ryan would have questioned this a little more, but Geoff had given him an unusually large amount of jobs recently and he'd been too busy to think on it much. In fact, his hectic schedule made Gavin's attitude towards him even more intolerable, and if that made him slot together the gun that he had finished cleaning a little more aggressively than was strictly necessary, well, then the reason was obvious.

 

The visibility of Ryan's level of hostility only seemed to goad Gavin further, stretching his arms out across the table so that they intruded upon the older man's workspace. "Ryaaaaan."

 

His teeth gritted. "What, Gavin?"

 

"Do something."

 

"I _am_ doing something," Ryan retorted, barely keeping his temper in check. "Unlike you, I'm contributing to my work life. Why aren't you at your computers?"

 

"I don' wanna," Gavin sulked petulantly, trying to spread himself further onto the table. His slow inching approach was not deterred by Ryan's warning growl. "C'mon, Rye-Bread. Stop being so nine to five and _boring_. Let's go for a ride up Mount Chiliad or go piss on the Vinewood sign or something." The Brit reached over and poked him in the arm. Ryan glared.

 

"Gavin, you do realise several of these guns are loaded, right?" By now, he'd cleaned another gun, pulling back on the slide a little harshly for emphasis.

 

A smile crept onto Gavin's face. It was meant to look innocent, but it had too much of a conniving edge for Ryan to be fooled.

 

"Why do you feel the need to point that out, Ryan? Am I doing something to annoy you?"

 

"Yes," the hit man all but snarled, grip white-knuckled as he picked up an SMG.

 

Eyelids hooded, Gavin grinned defiantly at him. "So what are you going to do about it?"

 

Ryan's eyes narrowed briefly as he suddenly realised Gavin's ploy, then schooled his features into a neutral expression, his anger fading and his grasp on the SMG loosening slightly. "I think me not fucking you for three weeks should be enough to teach you a lesson," he said casually, methodically working at pulling the gun apart.

 

Gavin's smug smile dropped. "No, what, Ryan wait-" he whined, eyes instantly wide and tumbling over himself as he tried to scurry over to Ryan. "You can't just not touch me for three whole weeks, that's just damn cruel!"

 

The older man raised an eyebrow. "I said I wouldn't fuck you, not that I wouldn't touch you," he replied calmly. Then, a hint of deviousness crept into his words as he added, "Because I'll be touching you plenty, you just won't be allowed to come."

 

Gavin whimpered even as arousal swirled in his abdomen. "Ryan, please, I just wanted-"

 

"To piss me off enough that I'd snap and have angry sex with you?" the older man finished for him, sending him a pointed look. "That's not exactly fair on me, is it?" His tone became gentler, but still firm. "Gavin, if you want something from me, next time just ask. There's plenty of things in this world for me to be mad at, and I don't want one of them to be you. That's not healthy."

 

"Okay, Ryan," Gavin said, voice small. "I'm sorry."

 

He nodded. "Thank you."

 

"So…" Gavin ventured tentatively. "We _are_ going to be shagging all through the next few weeks then?"

 

The corner of Ryan's mouth quirked as he returned his eyes to the gun, separating the pieces with practiced ease. "Nah."

 

"But I said I was sorry!"

 

"And I appreciate that, but I'm still standing by my decision. Call me stubborn, but I like to strongly reiterate every point I make. That way, I can be sure the message won't be forgotten."

 

"But…" Gavin protested helplessly, then trailed off. Ryan was, in fact, incredibly stubborn, and Gavin knew there was no way to make the older man change his mind when he'd so firmly declared his decision. He slumped as he accepted defeat, forcing down his burgeoning arousal, then quietly resumed his observation of Ryan as the older man's hands deftly disassembled and reassembled his vast assortment of weaponry.

 

~* * *~

 

"Focus, Gavin," Ryan admonished, leaning against the wall of the hideout's shooting range.

 

"'M focused," Gavin muttered, even as he realised that he'd been staring at the paper target for a solid fifteen seconds without firing. Ryan raised an eyebrow at him and he went red, readjusting his grip before pulling the trigger.

 

He had every right to be distracted, though. It had been a few days since Ryan had informed him of how their sex life would be going for the next few weeks, but the older man had still yet to touch him sexually in that time. The constant tense anticipation was setting Gavin on edge, which he didn't doubt was the point. Already, he wished that Ryan would do something, _anything_ , so long as his hands were on Gavin for more than a few seconds. Even though he knew that when Ryan finally did make his move, it would offer no relief, it would still surely be better than nothing.

 

Despite how preoccupied his mind was, he managed a fairly tight grouping on the target after firing off a few more rounds. His lowest score was an eight, and while he'd usually be able to get almost all bullseyes, he was honestly quite proud of himself, all things considered.

 

The next bullet didn't even hit the target as Ryan suddenly sidled up behind him, chest flush against Gavin's back and unceremoniously groping at the front of the Brit's pants. Ryan laughed at the younger man's high-pitched, surprised whine.

 

"You have to concentrate, Gavin. If, knock on wood, you _did_ ever get caught up in a firefight, you need to be able to block out distractions."

 

"Ryan," Gavin whimpered as the older man kneaded him unrelentingly. Ryan's other hand came up to steady his gun arm.

 

"Here. Arms straight, don't lock your elbows, gauntlet your right hand with your left." His fingers lingered far too long on Gavin's arms, softly tracing along them as he guided them into place. "Were you listening at all when I was teaching you this stuff?" he chastised as Gavin threatened to buckle against him.

 

Gavin thought it entirely unfair that Ryan could still somehow make his voice sound sexy through safety ear muffs.

 

He tried to shake himself, which was difficult when Ryan's hand was still pressing firmly against the front of his jeans. He fired again, but now the recoil had him pressing back against Ryan's solid warmth every time the gun went off, and his marksmanship suffered. All of his shots tore through the paper target, but several missed the concentric rings entirely, and his highest scoring shot was a five. Ryan seemed to be able to sense just when he was about to fire, and every time would palm him a little more firmly, or let his hand slip lower to cup and squeeze Gavin's balls.

 

The gun clicked, empty, when Gavin went to fire again, and he sagged slightly in relief, assuming that would be the end of it. But of course, Ryan wasn't about to let him off quite so easily. He pulled a fresh clip from his pocket, pressing it into Gavin's palm.

 

"Reload." His voice was firm and commanding. "We're not leaving here until you get at least close to a bullseye."

 

Gavin whimpered pathetically, but knew that Ryan wouldn't be dissuaded. He let the spent clip drop to the floor, unwilling to bring himself to clean it up properly given the situation, and with shaking fingers slotted the new one in place.

 

His marksmanship improved in the next round, but only slightly. A thin whine escaped him as Ryan pulled out another clip.

 

"I've got plenty more stored in the ammo cupboard here," Ryan informed him, forestalling any plans Gavin might have been making to just empty each clip as fast as possible. The Brit reluctantly loaded the pistol.

 

At this point, the way he was straining against the zipper was painful, and it took a monstrous amount of effort to keep his hands from trembling. To further exacerbate things, Ryan was half hard now as well, and Gavin could feel it pressing against his ass, making him want to grind back against the older man. But by now he'd gotten accustomed to Ryan's hand working him over as he tried to shoot, and he was slowly regaining some of his usual skill.

 

Gavin fired and hit the sixth ring. It wasn't great, but it was better than he had been doing. Still, getting any closer to the bullseye seemed like an impossibility.

 

"Focus, Gavin," Ryan told him softly, words somewhat muted by the younger man's earmuffs. "Relax. Breathe."

 

"You're not making it bloody easy," Gavin panted in response, his tone a little waspish.

 

"It's just a distraction," Ryan replied, idly thumbing the head of Gavin's cock through the denim. "Block it out."

 

"Bit harder than it sounds," Gavin replied through gritted teeth, but narrowed his eyes at the target anyway. He steadied his shaky breaths as best he could, staring down the small black circle of the bullseye.

 

He held his breath and fired.

 

The bullet tore through the ninth ring, barely missing dead centre. Gavin laughed triumphantly, setting the gun down as Ryan eased the earmuffs off both their heads.

 

Gavin's victorious grin was soon smothered by Ryan's lips, the older man shoving him up against the wall of the cubicle. Ryan ground their hips together, and Gavin moaned brokenly at the sensation of finally getting some friction.

 

Then he remembered it wouldn't lead to any true satisfaction for him and he let out a defeated whimper, head tipping back and eyes scrunching shut as Ryan's mouth moved to his neck. Despite knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere, Gavin couldn't help but rock his hips against Ryan's, moaning at the increasingly insistent press of the older man's growing erection.

 

His head lolled listlessly as Ryan's mouth moved along his jawline, peppering soft kisses before he nibbled playfully at the Brit's earlobe.

 

"Want to do something nice for me?" Ryan breathed, hips canting forward for emphasis. Gavin panted, nodded, eyelids hooded as he began to slide down Ryan's body. The older man turned them around so that by the time Gavin was on his knees, Ryan was the one with his back to the wall, fingers carding through Gavin's hair as the younger man fumbled with his belt. Gavin yanked Ryan's pants down and, eager to please, immediately took the older man's half-hard length into his mouth, sucking slowly. He moaned as he felt it plump up against his tongue. The ensuing vibration had Ryan echoing the sound, head pressed against the wall as he clutched a little tighter at the Brit's hair. Gavin began to take him in greedily, working his way up to a point where he was deep-throating Ryan.

 

In under a minute, Ryan was bottoming out with a groan, glad not for the first time that he'd taken the effort to train Gavin out of his gag reflex.

 

Eyes watering slightly, Gavin swallowed repeatedly around the cock in his mouth, making the older man swear profusely, head thudding back against the wall as his jaw clenched tight. At that point, Gavin pulled back, sucking in air through his nose as his hands came up to caress Ryan's cock and fondle his balls. Ryan's eyes closed as Gavin worked him over, fingers trailing lazily through Gavin's hair.

 

After a few minutes, his grip tightened, his hips starting to buck forward, and Gavin moved his own hands to the older man's thighs for better support as he took Ryan further into his mouth.

 

"Fuck, Gavin," Ryan ground out. His eyes cracked open to take in the sight of Gavin's lips stretched around his cock, and it was his undoing. He swore again and buried himself in the wet heat of the younger man's mouth, and Gavin swallowed as the salty come hit the back of his throat. Ryan groaned above him, eyes closing again briefly as he caught his breath. He pulled out of Gavin's mouth gently, and Gavin leaned forward, trying to follow, eyes slightly dazed. Ryan held him back and soothed him with murmured praises and soft strokes of his cheek as he tucked himself away with his free hand. He eased Gavin to his feet, placing a tender kiss on his lips. Gavin kissed him back, immersed in the sweet sensation for a few seconds before he started to mindlessly grind against Ryan's thigh, trying to find relief for his own straining erection.

 

Ryan held him off with gentle but firm hands. "Now, we had a deal, Gavin," he chided. "You still have two and a half weeks to go."

 

Gavin whimpered, but stopped, panting.

 

"It hurts," he whined.

 

"With those jeans, I'm not surprised," Ryan replied, faintly amused. "It's okay, you can undo your pants. No touching yourself, though. Here, I'll stay with you until it goes away."

 

The Brit let out a soft groan as he undid his zipper, fingers itching to wrap around himself as some of the pressure was relieved. Ryan drew him into his arms before he could succumb to the temptation, however, slowly sliding down the wall so that he was seated, Gavin pillowed on his lap. Ryan resumed his gentle, caring touches and words. Gavin's heartrate and breathing eventually settled back into normal rhythms. His hard cock was a little slower to respond, but Gavin found himself suddenly exhausted, and despite everything, he drifted off.

 

When he woke, he had finally gone soft, and he was still cradled in Ryan's arms. The older man noticed his wakefulness and smiled, helping him to his feet.

 

"You okay there, Gavin?"

 

He nodded, feeling drained but somehow content. "Yeah. 'M good."

 

"Good. We've both got work to get back to."

 

~* * *~

 

The next few weeks seemed to pass by at a crawl for Gavin. There would be periods of days where Ryan would barely touch him at all, which always left him on edge because he knew that Ryan would, without fail, catch him completely off guard when he did make his move. Then other days, the older man would have his hands all over Gavin at every possible opportunity. And Ryan didn't even always get off in these encounters, either. Sometimes he'd drive Gavin to such a fever pitch that Gavin would beg to be allowed to touch him in return, and Ryan wouldn't let it happen.

 

At no point did Gavin take matters into his own hands - literally or figuratively - to get himself off when Ryan wasn't around, either. Ryan hadn't made any rule against it, but Gavin was sure that he would disapprove, possibly even lengthen his punishment, if he did.

 

And if he was totally honest with himself, he kind of enjoyed the denial, especially knowing that holding out would make the final payoff that much more satisfying.

 

Not only that, but Ryan was always so caring with him whenever helping Gavin come down from his state of heightened arousal. He would soothe Gavin with soft words and gentle touches, and whilst there wasn't even anything inherently sexual about the older man's actions at that point, it still felt like the most intimate thing they'd done together. Engaging in such a level of unassuming tenderness was something Gavin never would have thought Ryan would actually do when they'd started their relationship. It scared him a little to admit, even to himself, how much he loved falling asleep while wrapped up in the hit man's arms.

 

Something else he would never admit he loved was riding on the back of Ryan's bike as the older man took corners far faster than he should, somehow never losing balance. Gavin would sit with his arms wound around Ryan's middle, air rushing past his helmet, and swear and laugh as the wheels left the ground. To be fair, though, most of the time they rode together was when Ryan was taking him home so that they could have sex, so his enjoyment may have been something of a Pavlovian response.

 

That night, even after working as late as they had that day, was no exception - within twenty minutes of them pulling up in the garage of Ryan's apartment complex, Gavin found himself naked with his hands tied to the headboard of the hit man's bed, two of Ryan's fingers in his ass.

 

Gavin's back arched away from the bed, forcing Ryan's hand against the mattress and pushing his fingers even deeper into Gavin. Ryan tried to pin the Brit's waist against the bed, but still Gavin writhed, whining in a wordless plea for more than the two digits moving inside him. Ryan complied, but not in the way Gavin was expecting.

 

He didn't add a third finger, or replace his fingers with a toy. In fact, he didn't introduce anything new in that aspect at all - instead, he dipped his head low and took the head of Gavin's cock into his mouth, suckling gently.

 

"Ryan- Ryan, what're you-" Gavin's voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. Ryan didn't answer him, partly because it was obvious what he was doing, partly because he was now halfway down Gavin's cock and it was rather difficult to form words while that was happening.

 

Gavin groaned, his head flung back, as Ryan began to bob rhythmically. Ryan had neither the skill, the inclination, nor the recent practice to be able to even approach being able to deep-throat Gavin. A fact that Gavin was more than fine with, seeing as he'd never expected Ryan to be sucking his cock in the first place. He thought dimly that there was surely some significance in the fact that Ryan felt comfortable enough with Gavin to be able to let his walls down and perform what was an inherently submissive and selfless act. His eyes drifted down to meet Ryan's, and he let out another broken moan at the sight of the hit man between his legs, blue eyes framed by thick brown lashes. Gavin's hands twitched in their bonds, aching to run themselves through the older man's golden hair, to pull out his ponytail and let it cascade over his shoulders.

 

Ryan moved away for a fleeting moment, nosing at the small hollow between Gavin's balls before briefly taking one into his mouth, tongue tracing over the Brit's surgical scar. "Did you want me to stop?" he asked as he pulled away, somehow sounding both amused and serious. Gavin was quick to shake his head no, and Ryan grinned before swallowing him down again.

 

The hit man's fingers crooked slightly inside him, brushing his prostate as they resumed their gentle rhythm. The Brit pressed his head back against the pillows and whimpered, surrendering to the sensation of being pleasured at both ends. He felt himself slowly drift into subspace, and he let it happen, pleasurable feeling seeming to consume his entire being.

 

Time seemed to lose all sense of worth. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that existed, was Ryan, and the way the he was making Gavin feel.

 

After what felt like a blissful eternity, the older man pulled off with a slight pop, simultaneously slipping his fingers out of Gavin. The Brit let out a soft hum, floating dreamily in his subspace. Despite not being even close to coming, he still felt oddly satisfied.

 

"Hey, Gav," Ryan murmured, hot breath tickling the younger man's thigh. "You still with me?"

 

"'M here," Gavin replied, voice a little slurred.

 

"I want you to look at the clock for me. Can you do that?"

 

Gavin nodded, eyes flicking over to the bedside table. The clock displayed a neon green 12:01, and Gavin stared at the numbers uncomprehendingly. "What'm I seeing?" he queried hazily. He saw the older man smile tolerantly from his periphery, and Gavin couldn't help smiling in response. For a professional murderer with incredibly questionable morals, Ryan could be so patient and kind when he wanted to.

 

"It's past midnight, Gavin. Your three weeks are up."

 

Gavin nodded vaguely, feeling like this information was somewhat important to him. He tried to claw through the euphoric haze of his subspace to remember, but it kept slipping from his mental grasp.

 

Then Ryan jogged his memory by pushing Gavin's legs towards his chest and pressing in. Gavin let out a low moan as he was finally filled, neck arching and eyes fluttering shut.

 

"Ryan…" he moaned softly as the older man slowly moved into him.

 

"Fuck, I've missed this," Ryan muttered, mouth seeking Gavin's and falling hungrily into a kiss. "God, I've missed having you like this. So fucking perfect."

 

Gavin groaned headily, lips moving just as eagerly against Ryan's. He tried to articulate his own feelings, but he was so far beyond words at that point. All he could do was meet Ryan's every thrust and kiss him furiously in the hopes that the older man would understand.

 

The Brit's neck ached with the effort of holding his head up, his stomach was beginning to cramp up from being folded over the way he was, the muscles in his thighs were burning for the same reason, and yet he could barely bring himself to care, could barely even feel it as Ryan kept pumping steadily into him. Gavin let out a hum of pleasure into Ryan's mouth, eyelids slipping closed as one of Ryan's hands circled around the back of his head. Ryan rested his weight on his other elbow, leaning over Gavin as the younger man was forced to bend almost double. He kept a sharp ear out for any sign of actual discomfort from the Brit, but he just kept humming happily and moaning, so Ryan set to burying himself ever deeper in Gavin's tight hole.

 

Ryan's hand disengaged from Gavin's wild hair to undo the soft ties securing the younger man's hands to the headboard, and Gavin's hands seemed to fly to Ryan's broad shoulders of their own accord, trying to drag him even closer. He buried his fingers in Ryan's hair, yanking out the elastic band that held it back, and the older man's head dipped down, teeth and tongue laving over Gavin's collarbone. Ryan nipped at the skin and Gavin hummed, eyes closed.

 

"Ryan," he gasped breathily, and came without warning. His eyes flew open, almost unseeing, as three weeks' worth of sexual frustration unravelled. He writhed and panted and swore, and Ryan followed him over the edge with a groan, bringing their bodies together one final time before going lax and still. They stayed intertwined for a few moments, both struggling to catch their breath. Then, Gavin began to squirm a little, uncomfortable with the weight of a full-grown man bearing down on him, and Ryan slowly pulled out, drawing the younger man into his arms.

 

Gavin was almost asleep when he heard Ryan quietly say his name.

 

"Mm?" He responded with a noise, not even opening his eyes.

 

"We should probably shower," the older man suggested, gently jogging Gavin's shoulder.

 

"Mm," Gavin replied noncommittally, not moving an inch.

 

He let out a sound of protest as Ryan suddenly stood from the bed, dragging Gavin into his arms bridal-style and carrying him towards the en suite bathroom.

 

"You'll thank me in the morning," Ryan told him as the younger man wriggled in a half-hearted attempt to break free.

 

Ryan awkwardly maneuvered Gavin into the shower, silently thankful that his bathroom was as spacious as it was. He leaned Gavin against the wall, where he grumbled incoherently about how cold the tiles were against his back. Ryan ignored him and tilted the shower head down, waiting for the water to heat up before he subjected Gavin to it.  

 

Despite his complaining, Gavin sighed blissfully as the hot water hit his skin, curling himself against the older man's body, the warmth washing away the sweat and semen stuck to him. Ryan lathered him up with soap, seeing as he didn't quite yet seem capable of cleaning himself, and Gavin soaked up the feeling of being so well taken care of.

 

Neither of them spoke, which Ryan felt was for the best - these tender moments between them seemed to be cropping up more and more frequently, and they came with a naturalness that terrified him. What had begun as just sex had rapidly become so much more, and Ryan didn't really know what to do about it.

 

He'd found it amusing, earlier, that Gavin still refused to acknowledge that he'd moved in with Ryan, despite the fact that he had stayed at Ryan's apartment every night for the past eight months and all his things were there. Now, he realised how much of a hypocrite he was being. But, for all his bravery in the face of the threat of pain and death - two old friends he brushed with on an unhealthily frequent basis - the thought of discussing their relationship turned him into a coward.

 

So, he kept his silence as he rinsed the suds from Gavin's body and his own, efficiently towelling them both off and bundling up under the covers on his bed, hair damp and skin flushed clean. Gavin was so worn out that Ryan suspected he might have actually fallen asleep before they'd even reached the bed, but he had no such luck reaching an easy state of slumber. His mind just kept mulling over the fact that Gavin was starting to mean a lot more to him than he wanted to, that if something in their admittedly dangerous line of work ended up getting Gavin killed, it would be the first death he would genuinely mourn in quite some time. He tried to shake himself of such dark thoughts, arms wrapping protectively around the slender Brit as if that would save him from harm.

 

Preposterous as it was, this actually helped ease his mind, and as Gavin settled perfectly in his arms, Ryan felt himself gradually drift off to sleep, his head filled with bittersweet dreams about how much easier things would be if he just lived a normal life.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been... a while... since I updated this, but I do have a bit of a doosie for you, so strap in.
> 
> This chapter is the first of three that I'll be publishing over the next few days. I've been working on them on and off for a while - it _was_ originally only meant to be one chapter, but it ran away from me entirely. Good news is that all three chapters are pretty much complete, the other two just need to be edited properly. I'll post the next one tomorrow, and the third part the day after that. I'm not meaning to set a precedent here, because I definitely won't be posting that regularly past this, but I still thought it'd be nice to get it all done and out instead of sitting on it.
> 
> These chapters will break away from the pattern of this story a bit, because - as you might have gathered - there is an overreaching arc that spans across all three. The first two also won't be all that centred around sex. Now, don't get me wrong, there are still plenty of mentions of sex, and sexual scenarios, so don't go thinking you're safe reading this where your family and/or small children can read your screen. And as for the third chapter...
> 
> Hoo boy. Let's just say you might want to keep the bedroom door closed for that one.
> 
> Content warnings for blood, gore, and some smut (not necessarily in that order).
> 
> Enjoy!

"So, what d'you say, Gavin? You in?" Geoff asked with a lazy smile, like he already knew Gavin's answer, and that the question had just been a polite formality.

 

To be fair, the job offer was insanely tempting. A chance to visit his home country for more than a few days at a time. A chance to go on a mission with Michael, who he'd grown to be good friends with over the past few months, and to spend some quality time with the fiery Lad. And a chance to make an obscene amount of money, to boot.

 

But to be gone for almost four weeks?

 

…To be away from Ryan for practically a month?

 

Gavin hesitated. "I, um…" he began uncertainly, and all eyes swung towards him, shocked that he hadn't immediately accepted. He gulped, and his eyes flickered over to Ryan as he asked Geoff if he could think about it, and Ryan didn't miss it - nor did Geoff, who eyed the blond shrewdly. Ryan didn't miss that look either.

 

"Gavin, please don't say no to the mission because of me," Ryan told him later, wrapped in each other's arms in their bed.

 

The younger man started a little at the suddenness of Ryan's voice, sending a surprised look up at him. "What?"

 

Ryan pulled Gavin closer, tucking the younger man's head under his chin. "I'm fine with you going on the UK job with Michael, if that's what's concerning you," he said carefully. "I know you've become close these past few months, and the last thing I want is for you to think that I'd be jealous of that. I don't ever want you to think that you can't hang out with your friends because of me."

 

"Oh! That's not the problem at all!" Gavin leaned back, smiling warmly at him. "It was more that I'd be gone almost four weeks this time, you know usually when I go there by myself it's only for a few days. I'd miss you." He grinned dopily, pecking at Ryan's jawline. "Really, you don't have to worry about anything like that, I know you trust me." His eyes sparkled up at Ryan, suddenly delighted. "It's nice to know you were worried about me, though. You're like a big, squashy teddy bear sometimes."

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow, trying not to seem too relieved. "I'm a teddy bear, am I?"

 

The Brit grinned, unable to suppress a giggle. "Yep. You're a big softie and you give excellent hugs."

 

With a sudden motion, Ryan rolled Gavin into his back, hovering over him. "I think I need to remind you what I do for a living," he growled mock-threateningly, ruining the effect with his own interminable smile.

 

"Sorry," Gavin laughed. " _Murderous_ teddy bear, my mistake."

 

"Better," Ryan murmured, pressing their lips together in a largely failed attempt to smother Gavin's laughter.

 

In the end, a few fingers hastily slathered in the lube from the bedside table finally stopped the Brit's giggles, trading them for soft, drawn-out moans, and that certainly was a result that Ryan couldn't complain about. Soon, Gavin was begging for more, and Ryan happily obliged, making the younger man cry out as he slid home in one full thrust.

 

After, when they lay tangled in the still-damp sheets with their breathing steady once more, Gavin murmured, "And there's something else I'd miss."

 

"Oh, you just want me for my body, is that it?"

 

"Well, I mean," Gavin replied broadly, fingertips dragging over Ryan's abs. "You definitely know how to use it."

 

Ryan grunted at him, somehow managing to sound both mollified and unimpressed at the same time.

 

They lay there in silence for a while, until Ryan softly murmured, "You should go."

 

"What, on the job?"

 

Ryan didn't look at him. "Yeah. It's not even a full month, it's not like it's really that long. And it's been a while since you last went there."

 

Gavin hummed in vague agreement. "'Kay. I'll talk to Geoff tomorrow."'

 

~* * *~

 

Geoff, of course, had taken Gavin's initial reticence completely the wrong way, and the next day cornered Ryan about the issue.

 

"You better not be keeping that kid from going on this job because you're jealous, Vagabond," he growled, stabbing his finger at Ryan's chest. Since Ryan and Gavin had started secretly dating, the Brit's personality had become a lot more tolerable, and his relationships with other members of the crew had become much less standoffish, Geoff and Michael most notably so. Already, it seemed like Geoff had half-adopted Gavin as his surrogate son, and it looked like Ryan was going to be bearing the brunt of his dadly attitude for the foreseeable future.

 

He was quick to make a placating gesture. "Relax, Geoff, I talked it over with Gavin. I actually convinced him to go. He's going to tell you that today."

 

Geoff backed off instantly with a surprised, "Oh," and that had been the end of the conversation.

 

~* * *~

 

Now, Ryan kind of wished that he'd never persuaded Gavin to accept the job. He didn't want the Brit to be gone for a month, not when they hadn't spent more than a few days apart in just over eleven.

 

Gavin shuffled self-consciously, the straps of his backpack seeming to not want to sit comfortably on his shoulders.

 

"Well, I guess it's about time I'm off, isn't it?" he mumbled, evading Ryan's eyes. "Don't want to miss my flight."

 

"You wouldn't want that, no," Ryan replied just as awkwardly, rubbing his arm. He didn't know how to do this. Give him a room full of people that wanted to kill him and he wouldn't flinch, but put him in an emotional situation like this and he'd all but forget how to function.

 

That probably said something about the state of his mental health.

 

"I'll be gone a month, almost," Gavin continued softly, and Ryan nodded.

 

"Twenty-six days, if everything goes to schedule, yeah."

 

"It's a while for me to be gone. You're _sure_ you're okay with me going, right?"

 

Ryan managed a smile. "We talked about this already. This is a big job, I'm sure your friends from the UK wouldn't have asked to have you and Michael fly halfway across the planet to help them if they didn't think you could handle it."

 

"M'not not worried about the job," Gavin mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself.

 

The older man chuckled. "Gavin, I'll be fine. I'm a big boy, and I have a lot of guns." His mouth quirked upwards. "I don't need you to protect me."

 

Gavin smiled ruefully. "That'd be a laugh. I wish you were coming, still."

 

"Yeah, you, me and Michael would make a real cosy team. I wouldn't want the poor guy being a third wheel. Plus you and I would probably just end up distracting each other from our work, which is why I'm assuming Geoff picked Michael to help you out on this one, not me."

 

Gavin's eyes dropped to the floor again, knowing that Ryan was right. Normally, the prospect of going over to the UK for a job with Michael would have excited him to no end, but the fact that he'd be away from Ryan for so long…

 

"I'll really miss you," the Brit muttered quietly but with genuine feeling, his cheeks colouring.

 

Ryan stepped forward and wrapped Gavin in a tight hug, so that the younger man wouldn't see the emotions waging war across his face. He needed to toughen up. It wasn't like Gavin was leaving him forever. He'd be gone less than a month.

 

Still, in their line of work, a hell of a lot could happen in a month.

 

"I'll see you in twenty-six days," he said gruffly, the words partially muffled by Gavin's hair.

 

"I'll see you then," Gavin murmured, eyes closed as he leant against Ryan's chest, inhaling his scent. He wanted to just stay there forever, for Ryan to lead him back to bed so they could spend a few languorous hours avoiding their responsibilities. Instead, he forced himself to pull away, and with a sad, wry, smile, he slipped out the front door.

 

~* * *~

 

For the first day that Gavin was gone, it almost seemed like nothing had changed. After all, they were still keeping their relationship under wraps, and their jobs within the crew were different enough that they didn't often interact during the workday. Even when they went home, it was usually separately, lest one of the other crew members get suspicious as to why they were leaving together.

 

So it wasn't until Ryan got home to his utterly silent apartment that the fact that Gavin was halfway around the world from him hit him with all the force of a sledgehammer. He shut the door behind him, blinking suddenly, swallowing reflexively at the strange weight settled in his chest.

 

Trying to shake the feeling, Ryan moved further into the apartment, eyes suddenly catching with new clarity all the little signs of how completely Gavin was integrated into his life now. Already, he knew that when he tidied their apartment (and the fact that he now considered it _their_ apartment), removing some of the signs of that Gavinness - the children's cereal he'd left out at breakfast, the numerous half-drunk mugs of tea abandoned on various flat surfaces, the British flag underwear lying crumpled on the bedroom floor - was going to make everything seem off and empty. And, considering that it would basically mean that the apartment would look more like before Gavin had (still unofficially) moved in, Ryan knew there was something strange about the fact this bothered him to such a degree.

 

Fuck, he really was beginning to care about the Brit too much.

 

He almost snorted, but instead it came out as a troubled sigh. Scratch 'beginning'. He was in the absolute thick of caring about Gavin too much.

 

There was a reason why Ryan wasn't huge on dating, and it was also one of the reasons why he was so hung up about keeping their relationship secret. The same reason that he found it so important to teach Gavin to handle himself in a gunfight.

 

In the line of work he was in, caring about someone painted a giant target on their back. Ryan's job didn't exactly tend to make him friends, and a lot of people couldn't see past the fact that when Ryan killed someone, it was because he was being paid by someone else. People had a funny way of still blaming whoever had pulled the trigger, even when the shooter had been the weapon just as much as the actual gun. The thought of one of the many people he'd given reason for vengeful anger over the years finding out about how he felt about Gavin terrified him. 

 

He decided that tidying up was something that could easily wait until tomorrow, and instead flopped down onto the couch, flicking on the 4K TV mounted in the wall and settling in for several mind-numbing hours of banal television.

 

Time passed, the sun eased itself towards the horizon, and Ryan realised he had no idea what was happening on screen because he hadn't been paying attention to the show in the slightest. With an aggravated sigh, he pulled out his phone and ordered some delivery Chinese for dinner, not in the mood for providing for himself. He stared listlessly at the characters moving across the screen, still not absorbing any information, as he waited for his food to arrive.

 

Once it finally did, his stomach growled in anticipation, but he ate mechanically, his kung pao chicken not tasting like anything much at all.

 

He mentally slapped himself a bit, berating himself for acting like such a love-struck teenager. But it was difficult, much more so than he would have expected. He'd been working with the Fake AH Crew in some capacity for almost five years, had been full-time with them for more than three. Before that, he had mostly done contract work, rarely having the same employer, or even the same address, for more than a few months at a time. Being with the crew had given him stability, had given him an established routine and never left him guessing where his next pay check was coming from. Especially now, with dating Gavin, he'd gotten used to not being alone for long periods of time, and just the knowledge of how long Gavin would be away - and that was only if everything went to plan, it could potentially be much longer, the uncertainty of it only making things worse - had him already yearning for the younger man's lively presence. It had him aching to run his fingers through the Brit's golden-brown hair, to see it stuck to the nape of the younger man's neck with sweat, to trace the dip and curve of flushed, tanned skin as Gavin arched beneath him, flesh against flesh, for Gavin to smother his moans against Ryan's lips as the hit man moved into him, pressed into him, to make both of them unravel as they lost themselves to the sensation of one another…

 

Ryan sighed as he caught sight of the way that his pants were beginning to tent, and he debated relocating to the bedroom, but in the end decided to wallow in self-pity, remaining on the couch. With another sigh, he undid his belt, shifting his pants down just enough that his half-hard cock was exposed to the elements. He closed his eyes, imagining Gavin being there with him, but all the memories of the younger man's touch paled in comparison to actually having him there.

 

Still, it was enough to allow him to pump himself to full hardness, spitting in his hand occasionally to increase the glide. Every image his mind gave him of Gavin just made him miss the Brit all the more keenly, even as it fed into his arousal, and in the end it was only about five minutes before he reached an entirely unsatisfying orgasm. His semen splattered across the floor in front of the couch, but as it was tiled Ryan decided he could deal with that later.

 

With a sound of discontent, Ryan tucked himself away and dragged himself through the shower, then trudged off to bed at an hour that usually only signified a time for rest for very young children and the geriatric crowd. He flopped onto the bed, which seemed strangely huge all of a sudden, and inhaled the faint scent of Gavin on the pillow next to him.

 

He didn't sleep.

 

~* * * ~

 

"Woah, Ryan, you look like shit," Geoff exclaimed, able to see the effects of a poor night's sleep on Ryan's face despite the face paint covering it.

 

"Thanks, Geoff," the blond replied acerbically, voice laden with sarcasm. "Any word from Michael and Gavin?"

 

"Well, both their flights landed fine, and they weren't recognised by any authorities at the airport, if that's what you mean."

 

"Anything else you know?" Ryan pushed, and Geoff looked at him askance.

 

"…No, they're gonna be on radio silence with us until the job's over, you know that." Geoff frowned slightly at him. "Since when did you become such a mother hen?"

 

"I'm not being a mother hen," Ryan replied waspishly. "I'm being a good member of the crew, I'm allowed to worry about how he- _they_ are doing." He cleared his throat uncomfortably, knowing how obvious his slip-up had been.

 

Geoff's eyes widened. "You only want to know about Gavin. You actually miss that little fucker, don't you?"

 

"You shut your goddamn mouth, Ramsey," the hit man growled, and Geoff just crowed with laughter.

 

"I can't fucking believe it!" He gasped, clutching his stomach and grinning ear to ear. "You _miss_ him, what a nerd!"

 

Ryan reached out and clamped a hand none-too-gently around Geoff's throat. "Shut. _Up_."

 

Geoff continue to cackle, even though the sound was a little strained now with his restricted air intake. His eyes streamed with mirth, knowing that Ryan wouldn't _actually_ hurt him, knowing that he was right. With an irate sound, Ryan released his boss' neck, looking like he had half a mind to punch the older man across the jaw before thinking better of it.

 

"You tell the others, and I'm not going to let go next time," Ryan threatened.

 

Geoff sighed suddenly, humour fading. "Ryan, it's been how many months now? I know Gavin's moved in with you at this point, don't try and deny it."

 

The blond folded his arms defensively, looking away. "So? It's just more convenient that way. It's not anything serious."

 

"Don't be a dumbass, Ryan. If he was just a casual fuck to you, you wouldn't be so hung up on keeping it a secret like this."

 

"Seriously, Geoff, shut up."

 

"Ryan-"

 

Ryan jammed his fingers in his ears. "Lalala, can't hear you!"

 

Shaking his head, Geoff heaved another sigh. "Y'know, it's a little concerning that my hit man is a complete fucking child," he said mildly, giving Ryan a pointed look. Ryan glared again, clearly able to hear Geoff despite his own juvenile antics. He took his fingers out and folded his arms once more.

 

"It's not a big deal," he muttered gruffly.

 

"You might not be ready to accept that it kind of is - _because fucking it is_ , by the way - but you better make damn sure that Gavin feels as strongly as you do. I don't want him hurting you."

 

Ryan scoffed. "Geoff, I could crush him with one hand if I wanted to. Trust me, there's no way _Gavin_ of all people could hurt me."

 

"Don't be dense, Ryan, you know what I meant," Geoff replied softly. "I've known you longer than anyone else in this crew has, and Gavin is the only person I know you've fucked more than once in that entire time. That's the closest thing to a romantic attachment I've ever seen you express, and I bet there's a whole bunch of sappy shit you two've done when no one else is around. So don't think you're gonna be able to convince me that he's not important to you, because we both know he is."

 

Ryan growled something under his breath, but Geoff continued to stare at him almost plaintively, and the blond was the first to look away, stalking off to find something else to do to take his mind off Gavin.

 

~* * *~

 

That something ended up being killing. It was a contract that Geoff had given him a few days ago, it wasn't like he was just going around murdering random folk to work out his frustrations. He wasn't completely amoral.

 

He drew it out a lot longer than he usually would.

 

By the end of it, his mask was striped with blood, his jacket soaked with it, and his victim had been barely recognisable as human long before Ryan had had his fill of fun with the weeping, shattered wreck that had once been a person. Now, they were just pieces, and Ryan calmly fed chunks of them into an industrial grade food processor. Once everything had been reduced to slurry, he poured it down the sink, chasing it with bleach. He took a dark satisfaction in so completely removing someone from existence, and he added bleach to the food processor's cleaning cycle and scrubbed down the room for good measure. His clothes could wait until he got home - they were dark anyway, it wasn't like anything stood out.

 

When he exited the building he'd dragged the poor unfortunate into, it was fully dark, and so Ryan felt entirely unconcerned as he mounted his bike and unobtrusively wound through a series of back streets before joining the main road, heedless of the blood still smattered over his mask and clothing.

 

Once he was far enough away, he revved the engine, sending the bike roaring across the tarmac as he wove recklessly through traffic. He drove even faster than normal, the wind tearing at his eyes as he ripped along the street.

 

He wasn't concerned about the cops. Even if one dared to come after him - he was still wearing his rather distinctive Vagabond getup, after all - he was confident that he would be able to lose them.

 

All too soon, Ryan had to bring his bike down to a purr as he came within the vicinity of the hideout. He pulled into the garage, parking and kicking down the stand before heading into the main building.

 

"Job's done," he said once he'd located Geoff, words muffled slightly by the mask, making the older man jump at the unexpected voice behind him. Geoff all but jumped again as he saw the state Ryan was in, all covered in blood and bits of gore.

 

"Jesus fuck, Ryan, I just wanted you to kill the guy, why the hell d'you look like a horror movie villain?"

 

Ryan shrugged indifferently. "He's dead. Does it really matter how he got that way?"

 

"How long did you have him for?"

 

The mask tilted slightly to one side. "What time is it now?"

 

"Almost ten."

 

Ryan nodded. "'Bout half a day, then."

 

Geoff's initial shock had now dissipated, replaced by concern. "Are you… okay, Ryan? I haven't seen you like this since… hell, since you first joined the crew."

 

"I'm fine," he replied tersely, jittery already as the adrenaline from the murder and the high-speed motorcycle ride seeped from his body. "Was there anything else you needed? I already killed the guy for you, I want to scrub off before his blood leaves any stains."

 

"…No, not right now. We're going to talk later, though. You are not fucking okay, Ryan."

 

The blond didn't dignify that with an answer, simply stalking off to the washroom.

 

He shrugged his jacket off, draping it over the edge of the wide sink before doffing his mask, turning the tap on and picking up a brush. The black sockets of the mask stared emptily up at him as he began to clean it.

 

Jack walked in, saw Ryan's face set in grim lines as he scrubbed away blood and small pieces of flesh, and made the wise decision to walk straight back out. Ryan didn't even notice.

 

His fingers trembled as he washed the mask, and he did his best to keep them steady, jaw clenched behind tightly clamped lips.

 

Dammit, Gavin had barely been gone a week. It shouldn't be hitting him this hard. If things were this bad for him already, how was he going to last another nineteen days?

 

Geoff had said that Ryan was reminding him of how he'd been when they'd first met, and the thought was a disconcerting one. Ryan wasn't that person anymore, didn't want to be that person again - only ever finding pleasure in others' pain, a soulless nightmare bent on killing for whoever would pay him enough. Being with the crew had given him a chance to be more than that. Considering that that soullessness was the only other way he knew how to be, he knew that he wouldn't be able to bear losing that chance.

 

Just like he wouldn't be able to bear losing Gavin.

 

He grit his teeth tighter, eyes unexpectedly hot as he moved on to the jacket, rinsing flaky half-dried blood from the leather.

 

"Get a hold of yourself," he growled, shoulders hunched. He scrubbed ferociously at the jacket and the water ran red.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't forget about posting this, I'm just a little late about it because we had a bunch of sick calls at work and I had to work close to fourteen hours. Thank god that I caught the train to work today, I probably would have fallen asleep at the wheel if I'd had to drive home. Also today's my Friday, so I can have a mega sleep-in tomorrow morning. I mean later today morning. That wasn't really a sentence. I don't care. Bleh.
> 
> Content warnings for some mild violence, and some masturbation.

It was all very well and good to tell himself to get a grip, but saying it and actually implementing it were two wildly different things.

 

Ryan wished that just telling himself to stop feeling a certain way would work, like Gavin could purportedly do whenever he started to feel sick. Instead, he found himself spiralling deeper into old habits, his thirst for blood and pain growing stronger, his temper growing shorter. It seemed like the only time that he could truly free his mind of its preoccupation with Gavin's wellbeing, if only temporarily, was when Ryan was elbow-deep in gore that he'd created, and he took a demented glee in being able to find that release. The rest of the crew began to avoid him - only approaching him with the same eggshell cautiousness that they had when the Vagabond had first joined their midst, like a ravenous wolf held only by a thin rope. And while the others were doing so out of (not entirely unwarranted) concerns for their own safety, the increased isolation only served to make Ryan's condition worse. In all honesty, it was astounding that no one seemed to make the connection between Gavin's absence and the increasing absence of Ryan's humanity, but people so often only see what they expect to see. When the other members of the crew had first been introduced to Ryan, it had been clear that he treated death like an art form, like an extension of himself. They saw this re-emergence of that darkest side of his personality as something that had simply been biding its time.

 

Gavin had been gone just over two weeks when Geoff finally confronted Ryan again.

 

To avoid any chance of compromising the mission, there had been no communication between Michael and Gavin and the rest of the crew. Although it was unlikely, there was still a possibility that something could have gone wrong, that Gavin could have been killed somehow, and Geoff didn't doubt that not knowing for sure was driving Ryan insane more than Gavin's actual absence. If Ryan had been able to stay in contact with Gavin, to have some measure of reassurance that the Brit was still all right, Geoff was sure that things wouldn't have been anywhere close to as bad as they were.

 

As it stood, though, allowing Ryan to continue like this was just plain dangerous.

 

Ryan's fists clenched and unclenched in unconscious action, shoulders tensed and prepared for violence.

 

"Who's the next hit?" Ryan asked brusquely, fingers twitching. Geoff was reminded disturbingly of a drug addict. It saddened and horrified him to realise how apt the description was - Ryan had always been an adrenaline junkie, but right now it was in the most self-destructive of ways, and if Geoff didn't do something soon, then by the time that Gavin got back, there might be nothing left to save.

 

"There's no hit," he said firmly, carefully, keeping himself from flinching as the blond's face darkened thunderously.

                    

"That's not what I want to hear."

 

"Well, that's too fucking bad," Geoff replied, voice level as Ryan's eyes blazed with rage.

 

"Geoff, I swear to god," he growled, "You better stop fucking around and give-"

 

"Give you what?" Geoff snapped over the top of him. "Ryan, I've given you more kill orders the last two weeks than I usually give you in two _months_. I thought it would help, let you blow off some steam, but you're getting worse. I'm your boss, yeah, but I'm your fucking friend, too, god help me for what that says about my sanity. Ryan, you need to listen to me. For the last goddamn time, _this is not fucking healthy_. You have to realise that."

 

Ryan growled, a predatory sound of warning. "I didn't ask for your opinion, I asked for someone to kill." He made a ripping motion with his hands, likely without realising he was doing it. Geoff fought the urge to gulp nervously.

 

"If you won't listen to me, then listen to yourself. Repeat what you just said back in your own head and tell me that you think that someone that's even remotely stable would ever say something like that."

 

"Shut the fuck up, Geoff," he hissed, a deranged light in his eyes. "You've got no idea what you're talking about. Give me. A hit."

 

Geoff gazed at him heavily. "No, Ryan. There's no one left right now that's pissed me off enough to justify it. And even if I gave you someone just to shake down, I can't trust that you won't lose control of yourself and take it too far. You're letting yourself become a liability."

 

The wild light grew more intense. "If you don't give me someone, I'll find someone on my own."

 

Geoff unceremoniously slugged him across the jaw, entirely fed up. "I'm trying to help you, you ass-"

 

The older man's words stopped as Ryan's hand clamped around his throat and slammed his head back against the wall, stars bursting through his vision. Dimly, he could see Ryan's snarling face, even as his own went red with trapped blood.

 

"Look at what you're doing," Geoff rasped, hands gripping feebly at Ryan's arm. "Think about what you're doing." True fear washed through him as the hit man's expression didn't change. This wasn't like when Ryan had grabbed his neck just a few weeks ago. Ryan's threat had been hollow then, no real malice or hurtful intent behind the action, just an attempt to intimidate Geoff into not teasing him about missing Gavin.

 

Now, though, Geoff knew just how pathetically easy it would be for Ryan to justify pressing a little harder, a little longer, until Geoff was completely out of his way.

 

His grip tightened slightly and Geoff reached a state of panic. "Think about what Gavin'd say if he could see you right now," he managed to wheeze before Ryan closed his airway off entirely, and Ryan's grip froze. Geoff nearly sobbed with relief.

 

"Think about what he'd think of you." Every word was agony to force out of his constricted throat, but the only other option was to allow Ryan to kill him without a fight.

 

The blond's hand slackened, but only slightly, nowhere near enough to let Geoff breathe freely. Darkness crowded the edges of his sight, his mind flirting with the sweet, pain-free nothingness of unconsciousness.

 

"Think how terrified he'd be of you," he managed to whisper.

 

All at once, Ryan released him, leaving him to fall in a graceless heap, breath rushing hoarsely into his starving lungs. He lay there for a few minutes, loudly gulping in air, and Ryan sat down in front of him, arms draped loosely over his knees and the fight fleeing him.

 

"I'm sorry," Ryan muttered tersely, avoiding looking at Geoff as the older man struggled to breathe normally.

 

"Do you understand now, at least?" Geoff asked, voice rattling painfully. "D'you get why this isn't good for you?"

 

Ryan bristled for a moment, then he deflated. "I'm sorry," he said again, this time just sounding tired. Geoff dragged himself up into the approximation of a seated position. "Geoff, what do I do?"

 

The crime boss dragged a hand through his hair, at a bit of a loss himself on how to give advice to the Vagabond, of all people. His voice came out scratchy. "Fuck, man, I don't know. I guess you've gotta accept the fact that you're _not_ going to know one way or the other if Gavin's okay, until we get some kind of indication that the mission's over."

 

"That's not exactly easy. I don't like not being able to do anything."

 

Geoff sighed. "I know. But you really can't, you've gotta let yourself realise that. If you just let yourself feel useless, you're going to start lashing out again. That's what the way you've been acting was, anyway - you just wanted to feel in control of something." He winced, clearing his throat painfully. "And I'd really rather that you found some other kind of outlet."

 

"'M sorry," Ryan mumbled again.

 

"I'm not gonna love explaining these bruises to Griffon," Geoff muttered grumpily, and Ryan's shoulders hunched. He opened his mouth to say sorry again, but Geoff cut him off with a short hand motion. "Stop being so apologetic, it's weird on you. I'm just being a dick. Just make sure it doesn't happen again, okay? You need to get your shit together." His voice grew soft. "You’re my hit man, Ryan. I need to be able to trust you. I don't want to have to boot you from the crew. God knows that would be the worst thing for you right now, but I need to think about the others too. What if it'd been Ray, or Jack, or anyone else just now? They wouldn't've known how to talk you down. You could've killed someone on your own crew."

 

Ryan nodded in understanding, eyes downcast once more.

 

"C'mon, I just got strangled halfway unconscious, help me up."

 

Ryan stood, clasping Geoff's hand and pulling the older man up with him. He almost muttered another apology, but caught himself just in time. "Thank you, Geoff," he said instead, softly, sincerely, well aware that Geoff was giving him a second chance that very few people would have afforded him.

 

One that he wasn't entirely sure he deserved.

 

~* * *~

 

Considering what had just happened, Geoff decided that the best thing would be for Ryan to finish early that day - which still meant that it was close to dark out, seeing how they had a tendency to start work late, thus not having to deal with traffic quite as much. Because, to quote Geoff, 'If I've gotta sit in gridlock traffic for an hour every day just to get here then I'm gonna start shooting some motherfuckers'.

 

Ryan agreed to the early mark gratefully, taking his bike for a long spin to calm down.

 

Out of his distinctive Vagabond attire, the police were far bolder in attempting to stop his high-speed antics. He tore along the city streets with sirens echoing in his ears and red and blue lights bouncing off the buildings around him, years of innate knowledge of the city's layout allowing him to easily outpace the cops. He spent a soothing half hour leading them on a merry chase, then once he'd had his fill of antagonising the law the slipped into an abandoned parking garage, removed the bogus licence plates, peeled away the fake detailing, put on the jacket stowed in the bike's back compartment, and quietly slipped back out again. A self-satisfied smirk curled at his lips as a cop car drove right past him without realising who he was.

 

He made his way to the open road and pulled over, removing his helmet and strapping it down before taking off again. He stuck to the speed limit for once, since the wind-induced tears already streaking from his eyes would likely have blinded him if he went any faster. As it was, the wind was already ripping through his hair, roaring in his ears, the sensation indescribably freeing as he cruised along the highway, the bike rumbling beneath him.

 

He rode on and on, only stopping when his bike started to run low on fuel, and he had to pull into a gas station. Briefly, he considered holding the place up to blow off some more steam, but decided against it. Geoff was right - he needed to stop using violence as a crutch for any insecurities he felt. He paid the gangly, pimple-faced clerk his money and left.

 

The bored-looking teen seemed to have no clue how close he'd come to death.

 

After countless hours of driving with the stars and moon blazing above him - most of it with his helmet back on and bike roaring along at half again the legal speed - Ryan finally wound his way home, the clock having already ticked over into morning by the time he pulled into the garage.

 

He parked and silently rode the elevator up, not running into anyone else that lived in the building. Not that that was uncommon, especially for close to two am on a Tuesday.

 

The leftover rush from riding at high speed slowly seeped away, leaving him edgy. He tried to ignore it as he let himself into his dark apartment, flicking on lights as he made his way inside.

 

Ryan didn't much feel like doing anything, so he figured dragging himself through the shower and going to bed would probably be the best option. He'd likely still end up watching shitty TV for several hours until exhaustion overcame him, but he could at least pretend for a few minutes that he had himself together. He trudged into the bathroom and turned on the light, squinting as it bounced off the white tiles into his eyes.

 

With a sigh, Ryan pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. His gaze caught on his reflection in the mirror, on the raised ridges of scars left on his body from a life spent confronting every issue he faced head-on. A thought sparked in his mind.

 

He was so frustrated and angry because he felt powerless to do anything to help Gavin. Maybe the solution was to embrace the lack of control he felt, rather than bullheadedly fighting it.

 

Ryan retreated to the bedroom, pulling a few choice items from the cupboard drawer that contained all his more adult toys. He placed them on the bedside table before lying back on the mattress, hand drifting over his bare stomach before coming to rest between his legs. He massaged his cock slowly through his jeans, feeling himself beginning to plump up. He imagined Gavin atop him, in one of his infrequent domineering moods, whispering filthy, sultry things into his ear.

 

Before he became fully hard, Ryan shucked his jeans and underwear, kicking them off his feet and over the end of the bed.

 

With slightly shaking hands, he picked up a cock ring from the bedside table and slipped it over his shaft, making sure it was fastened securely at the base. His cock began to redden with trapped blood, and he closed his eyes, settling back against the bed as he wrapped his hand around himself.

 

He thought of Gavin, crouched between his thighs, all wicked grin and deft fingers teasing him, stroking him, lovely lips tauntingly close to Ryan's cock but never actually closing the distance.

 

He thought of the younger man ordering him to put his hands above his head, refusing to let Ryan touch him. Knowing that he wouldn't need to tie Ryan up to ensure his complicity, being able to simply trust that the older man would do as he was told. Also knowing that Gavin would likely bind him in place anyway, purely for the visual component of having Ryan completely at his mercy.

 

He thought of Gavin bouncing and moaning on his cock, reducing Ryan to little more than a fucktoy, arching as he chased his own pleasure. Not that he wouldn't make sure that Ryan came too, of course. The Brit would probably do his best to make sure that Ryan had been riled up enough to come before Gavin himself did. That way, the slide would be even easier as Gavin fucked himself to completion, muscles clenching around Ryan's hypersensitive cock.

 

With a soft gasp, Ryan's eyes flew open, orgasm rocking through him as he coated his hand with milky fluid. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, panting breath heaving into his lungs as he slowly collected himself enough to gently ease the cock ring off.

 

That had been… well. Satisfying was a pretty good word for it. Of course, masturbating while thinking of Gavin dominating him hadn't magically solved his problems, nor had he expected it to. He _did_ feel a lot more relaxed, though, which was very much the intent.

 

A wide yawn cracked at his jaw. He was thoroughly ready to sleep now, which was much more than he could have said for himself for the past few weeks. First, though, he did have to shower, as nodding off with his body still sticky from semen was still an entirely unappealing option. Groaning, he heaved himself to his feet and slumped back into the bathroom once more, turning on the shower and messily washing himself.

 

Steam rose from his skin in wisps as he towelled himself dry, hair a damp mess as he headed back to bed. He curled up under the covers and finally, blissfully, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

 

~* * *~

 

"You're looking better today," Geoff hazarded the next morning.

 

"Working on it," Ryan replied, and the older man nodded firmly.

 

"Good. Keep it up, I don't want a repeat of yesterday. Ever." His blue eyes were steely. "I won't give you a chance like that again. If you let this beat you, Haywood, you're done."

 

Ryan's jaw clenched, but any anger he felt was directed at himself. "Got it. I'll keep it under control, Geoff. I promise."

 

"Good," Geoff repeated, then clapped his hands together. "Now, enough sappy shit. Let's get to work."

 

~* * *~

 

The next ten days stretched out into an agonisingly slow, but thankfully uneventful, blur. Every day felt much like the next, only the knowledge that every sunrise brought the time a little closer to Gavin's homecoming making any kind of difference.

 

Ryan did his best to keep himself occupied, and Geoff did his best to assign him tasks that would do the same.

 

Finally, day ten arrived, and Geoff gathered the core members of the crew in the planning room. The tension was palpable, all eyes on the crime boss as they waited for him to tell them whether or not their crewmates were okay.

 

"The UK job went off without a hitch. Michael and Gavin're already in the air, they'll be back in the US in less than twelve hours." Geoff's eyes met Ryan's and nodded near-imperceptibly, and the blond felt a huge weight roll away from his shoulders.

 

All the concern, the uncertainty over Gavin's wellbeing, vanished in an instant. While he still missed the Brit, while he knew that the next day would feel like it would drag on forever, the feverish intensity of his emotions about the situation vanished, making it clear that not knowing whether Gavin was actually alive or dead had been the driving force behind the dark insanity that had hung over the past month of Ryan's life.

 

His breath whooshed out of him in a collective rush, Jack and Ray echoing the sound. Geoff grinned.

 

"Our boys are coming home."

 

~* * *~

 

Ryan retreated to the armoury to clean his guns, both to kill time and to hide his intense relief from the others. In truth, none of his weapons really needed to be cleaned. Several of them hadn't even been used since the last time he'd done so. But the task was methodical, and took hours to complete, so it perfectly suited Ryan's needs.

 

The hours passed in rhythmic quiet, the only sound the muted click of metal and gentle thud of polymer as Ryan disassembled his vast array of guns.

 

Geoff found him there well past noon, not even giving him a cursory knock on the inside of the door once he'd barged in.

 

"Hey, you're on pickup duty," he informed Ryan.

 

Ryan set down the gun in his hand and scowled up at the older man. "What the fuck, I'm not a soccer mom! Go get Jack, he fits the bill better."

 

Geoff gave him a pointed look. "I already have him picking up Michael right now. He and Gavin flew on separate planes. Meaning you'll be able to take Gavin straight home."

 

The blond subsided immediately. "Oh," he said lamely. "Thanks."

 

With a roll of his eyes, Geoff replied, "Yeah, yeah, just make sure you both keep your eyes on the road when you're heading back."

 

"No promises," Ryan shot back with a grin, already standing to leave.

 

"You don't even know when his flight is landing," Geoff pointed out mildly, and Ryan looked sheepish. The older man shook his head. "Jesus, I don't know if Gavin's all that good for you. You're getting as dumb as he is."

 

"Just tell me the time," Ryan groused.

 

Geoff flicked his wrist out in an exaggerated manner, peering at the ludicrously expensive watch wrapped around it. "It's just gone three o'clock."

 

Ryan glared. "Geoff."

 

"All right, lighten up, I was just joking," Geoff complained. "His plane's due in at LSX at half past nine. You've still got a few more hours to waste." Ryan put away the last gun and walked off without saying another thing. "Nerd," Geoff muttered after his eagerly retreating form.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here's the third chapter, Chapter 8! Fluff and sexytimes abound.
> 
> Content warning for a gratuitous amount of smut.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ryan fidgeted in the uncomfortable seat, the hard plastic locked in a row with its brethren in the waiting area of the Arrivals terminal at the Los Santos International Airport. He didn't like being in an open, public place like this for any length of time, and knowing that Gavin's flight wasn't due to land for another twenty minutes wasn't helping any. It was his own fault, really, for getting to the airport so early, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now except wait.

 

He looked hopefully up at the arrivals board, then sighed irately. Another eighteen minutes, still. How Ray managed to stay motionless for hours on end when he was setting up for a sniper kill, Ryan would never understand. He glanced around the terminal, hoping for something to catch his eye that would divert his attention for a while, but not so much that he'd become too distracted.

 

An attractive blonde in her early thirties was sending him covert glances from her spot a few seats down. Ryan almost went on alert, but he quickly realised she was appreciatively eyeing his muscled arms. He crossed them instinctively, then realised he was sending the wrong signal as her head cocked to the side and she smirked. He unfolded his arms and stared steadfastly at the arrivals board. Under twelve minutes to go.

 

_For the love of god please let her stay in her own seat-_

 

The arrival time ticked over to ten minutes remaining and he felt someone sit down next to him. He scowled at the swish of golden hair that sent a waft of spicy-floral scent into his personal airspace, continuing his attempt at glaring the arrivals board into submission.

 

"Well hey there, Mr. Angry Face," the blonde greeted sweetly, grinning over at him, blue eyes crinkling and twinkling. "Anything I can do to make you smile?" Her tone was innocent, but the way she raked her eyes over his body was not.

 

"No," Ryan replied shortly, even though he knew that the unfriendly response was unlikely to deter her.

 

He saw her pout in his periphery. "You sure you don't want to have a little fun?"

 

"I have a boyfriend," he told her without thinking, hoping it would throw her off.

 

Without missing a beat, she grinned wide and said, "Well, I've always thought the more the merrier."

 

"I'm gay, not bisexual," he growled, completely losing patience. "Fuck off."

 

"Suit yourself." She shrugged, unfazed by his menacing aura. He continued to watch the arrivals board.

 

At least the woman's unwanted advances had killed some time for him. There were now only seven minutes remaining until Gavin touched down on American soil once more. Unfortunately, the woman had decided to not do the polite thing and move away now that it was clear that Ryan was not interested. This, coupled with the tiny chairs and Ryan's broad shoulders, meant that their arms were touching, and Ryan would bet every last gun he owned that she was leaning into him on purpose. But there was no way he was going to admit defeat and move away himself, so he was stuck where he was as the remaining time until the flight arrived wound down to zero.

 

People began to filter through the arrivals gate after several more agonisingly slow minutes, and Ryan stood, ignoring Blonde Lady as he peered over the tops of people's heads.

 

He saw Gavin before Gavin saw him, and watching the delighted grin that suffused the Brit's face was the best damn thing he'd seen all month.

 

"Rye-Bread!" Gavin beamed as the older man strode into speaking distance. "You came to pick me up!"

 

Michael had been on a different plane to Gavin to lower their chances of being recognised together, so Ryan didn't even have to think twice about sweeping the younger man into his arms and kissing him hard. There were several glares being directed their way by other patrons of the terminal - it was America, after all - but they simply bounced off Ryan's back.

 

"I fucking missed you," he breathed against Gavin's lips, hands sliding over the battered backpack slung over the Brit's shoulders to the small of his back.

 

"Missed you too," Gavin mumbled, embarrassed now that he wasn't quite so caught up in the moment.

 

Ryan pulled back from the embrace slightly, still keeping one arm looped around Gavin's waist as they headed for the exit. He leaned down and murmured in Gavin's ear. "I haven't been able to touch you in a month. We've got a lot of lost time to catch up on when we get home."

 

A delicious shiver shuddered its way up Gavin's spine, and his eyelids hooded slightly. Ryan wasn't the only one eager to return to their usual levels of intimacy.

 

He made no complaint about getting on the back of Ryan's motorbike, nor about donning his lurid green helmet. He only closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Ryan's torso and revelling at all the broad muscle under his fingertips. The thrum of the bike's engine reverberated through him. Ryan edged at the speed limit right up until they hit the highway, and then he floored it.

 

Gavin laughed, feeling bright and alive as they tore past other vehicles on the road. There were never speed traps along this particular stretch of freeway, and Ryan let the bike roar along at half again what was legally allowed. He wove expertly through the traffic, muscles shifting as he leant side to side. Gavin moved with him, practically plastered against the older man's back, and felt sensation stir low in his abdomen, the vibrating hum of the bike beneath him only exacerbating the sudden issue.

 

Ryan's chuckle was almost indistinguishable from the bike's rumble, but the way one of Ryan's hands snaked back to pull Gavin even closer, coming to rest high on the younger man's thigh, let him know that his increased excitement had not gone unnoticed.

 

The Brit whimpered behind his helmet, glad that there was no way for Ryan to hear the pathetic sound, his hands slipping low around Ryan's waist as he did his best to stop himself from grinding shamelessly against the hit man's back.

 

A devious idea sparked suddenly in his mind and he allowed his hand to creep even lower. _Two can play at this game_ , he thought, fingers curling around the front of Ryan's jeans and gently kneading.

 

Gratification glowed in Gavin's chest as Ryan bucked up into his hand with a muffled curse, and he gave in to desire, rolling his hips languidly against Ryan's firm back.

 

Needless to say, both of them were achingly hard by the time Ryan brought the bike to a purring halt in the underground parking garage of their apartment, helmets rapidly discarded and Ryan's lips immediately attaching themselves to the back of Gavin's neck, kissing possessively. Without disconnecting, Ryan steered them both towards the elevator, hitting the button for the top.

 

Through a stroke of luck, they rode the cart straight up without pausing at any other floor - which was just as well, as they probably wouldn't have stopped for anyone. Just as fortunately, their apartment took up a floor of its own, affording them an uninterrupted approach to their front door, which mostly consisted of Gavin stumbling forward as Ryan's feet chased after him.

 

When they finally got there, Ryan became distracted by the way Gavin pressed himself up against the door. Ryan crowded him against the frosted metal, mouth buried against Gavin's neck as the Brit panted beneath him, hips grinding and pressing him even closer. Eventually, though, Ryan gathered the presence of mind to fish out his keys to let them in, and it only took three fumbled attempts before they were practically falling through the suddenly open door.

 

Their shirts vanished even before the door closed behind them, dropped in the entryway as they made their meandering way further into the apartment, getting distracted several more times as Ryan was unable to keep himself from pressing Gavin against various surfaces, kissing him deeply.

 

In the end, they didn't make it to the bedroom. They didn't even make it to the couch.

 

Gavin let out a needy whimper as he was shoved against the window, Ryan's hands pushing insistently at the waistband of his jeans.

 

He remembered the first time he had seen Ryan's apartment. He'd been surprised by the amount of glass surrounding the place, thinking at the time that Ryan would have been too paranoid - with good reason - to have such an open home. Now, Gavin knew all the glass was missile-proof, and it made a lot more sense. He'd also learnt that Ryan was something of an exhibitionist, hence this being far from the first time Gavin had bared his cock to the skyline of Los Santos.

 

Ryan ground against his ass, and the scrape of denim over bare skin made Gavin moan, cock bobbing. The older man stilled the motion by wrapping one hand around Gavin's shaft, kneading gently. Another whimper slipped past Gavin's lips.

 

"Ryan," he panted. "Ryan, there's lube in my front pocket, please-"

 

The older man's free hand circled around instantly, fingers digging in to Gavin's left front pocket first, then the right, struggling with the tight jeans for several seconds before being able to retrieve his prize.

 

"I figured- I wasn't sure we'd make it all the way to-" The rest of Gavin's words were lost to a moan as Ryan sank two freshly slicked fingers into him.

 

"Good thinking," the older man rumbled behind him, doing his best to open Gavin up quickly, but without actually hurting him. Gavin gasped and sighed at the sensation of Ryan's fingers moving into him, his own fingertips leaving smudges on the glass as they curled. "You get yourself off thinking about me while you were over there?"

 

"Ah- A few times," Gavin stuttered. "I just wanked off mostly, though, I-I used my fingers the first time but it wasn't the same-mmm!" He clamped his lips over a groan as Ryan slipped a third finger into him, hole clenching around the digits.

 

"I can tell," Ryan murmured, humour and arousal both clear in his tone. "I can feel how tight you are, just waiting for me." He moved into the Brit slowly, savouring the tension capturing Gavin's body. "And as much as I appreciate that, you could've taken a dildo with you, if you needed to be filled that much."

 

Red spots burned high on Gavin's cheeks. "But what if someone'd seen it on the x-ray of my luggage in the airport?"

 

Ryan chuckled above him. "All the things we've done, and _that's_ too embarrassing for you?"

 

"Shut up, Ryan!" Gavin retorted, voice breathy and petulant. "It's different when it's not something that's in the moment, you don't-" His sentence cut off in another long moan as Ryan's fingers pulled away, replaced instead with the head of the older man's cock.

 

"So, it wasn't the same as me filling you up, hm?"

 

Gavin shook his head no, eyes closed as Ryan sank into him.

 

"Is this what you've missed? Feeling the way that you stretch around me?"

 

"Yes, Ryan," he whispered, voice trembling and body pressing back against Ryan's bulk.

 

"I've missed that too," Ryan crooned in his ear. "I've missed all those little sounds you make, the way I can make you forget how to speak, how by the end the only thing you can do is scream my name…"

 

"Ryan," Gavin groaned, head tipping back and twisting as he blindly sought out the older man's mouth. Ryan kissed him briefly before pulling back, readjusting his grip so that Gavin was firmly pinned against the glass, affording him the best position to begin thrusting up into the Brit. His pace built rapidly, smoothly, like their month-long separation hadn't happened at all.

 

Gavin soon was letting out little panting breaths, his forearms beginning to slide slightly against the pane with sweat. Ryan maintained a good grip, ensuring that Gavin wasn't going anywhere as he pounded into him, brushing over Gavin's most sensitive spot on almost every thrust. He grunted each time as a counterpoint, the raw masculine sound of it alone making precome dribble from Gavin's tip.

 

"Fuck I've missed this," he growled into Gavin's hair. "You're so good like this."

 

His left hand slid up Gavin's arm, lying flush with it, their fingers tangling. The other held Gavin's slender waist steady as Ryan rocked into him, the Brit's head hanging low as the older man peppered kisses along the top of his spine.

 

Ryan's thrusts gradually slowed, his feverish intensity fading as he simply allowed himself to soak in the sensation of being sheathed in Gavin, leaning even further forward to bring the Brit's back flat against his chest.

 

"…You okay, Ryan?" Gavin murmured after a few motionless seconds, still pressed against the window, precome smearing against the pane. It was clear that the older man hadn't come yet, so he wasn't exactly sure what was going on.

 

"'M good," the older man rumbled back, words reverbing through Gavin's body. "I've just… I've missed being with you. Here," he said, supporting Gavin's hips as he slowly pulled out, making them both groan with disappointment. "I want to see your face properly," he continued, making Gavin shiver as he was turned around, hoisting the brunet's legs around his waist.

 

Ryan lined up once more, and they each sighed heavily when he slid home, spending a few minutes simply holding one another, using the window for support. Gavin's mouth found his, and they kissed messily, only the minutest of movements pushing Ryan in and out of Gavin's body.

 

Ever so slowly, Ryan lifted him away from the window, steps languorous as he made his way to the open bedroom. Gavin moved sensuously atop him all the while. When they reached the bed, Ryan didn't lie him down on the mattress, like he'd expected. Instead, he turned at the last second, climbing - somewhat clumsily - on his knees, backwards onto the bed. He sank back against the mattress, Gavin still on top of him, and smiled up at the Brit.

 

Gavin grinned right back.

 

So, Ryan was in one of _those_ moods now. Well, he was more than happy to comply with the older man's desires.

 

"Hands where I can see 'em, Vagabond," he ordered, green eyes gleaming. Ryan laughed, but readily did as he was told, placing his arms over his head in a way that only accentuated the musculature of his biceps. Gavin let his appreciative hands and eyes run along them, purposefully arching and drawing his body forward before sliding back, pushing himself all the way down to the base of Ryan's cock.

 

He began to grind slowly against Ryan, the older man arching his neck with a groan, fingers bunching into the bedcovers and muscles tensed into even greater definition.

 

But Gavin wanted to Ryan strain against him, to having the hit man begging to touch him. The only way to do that was to remove the option entirely.

 

With a barely suppressed whimper, he pulled off of Ryan, and stepped away from the bed, feeling achingly empty.

 

Ryan lifted his head, arms remaining obediently still. "Gavin?"

 

"Stay there, Ryan," Gavin told him sternly, crossing the room to the cupboard drawer that contained all their more adult items.

 

Ryan looked a little exasperated as Gavin returned moments later, a grin on his face and a pair of shiny silver handcuffs in his hand. "Really?"

 

Gavin climbed back onto the bed with a shrug, still smirking. "You're a dangerous man, Rye-Bread." Ryan went to sit up, but Gavin surged forward, shoving him back down. Their mouths were inches apart as Ryan stared up at him, eyes wide with surprise as Gavin growled, "And I told you to _stay there_."

 

A shiver traced its way up Ryan's spine and he let Gavin cuff him to the headboard.  

 

"Knees up," Gavin commanded, and Ryan obeyed instantly, the soles of his feet flat against the mattress.

 

Gavin grabbed at Ryan's broad shoulders as he lined back up with the blond's cock, hissing as he sank back down. Gavin kissed hungrily at Ryan's mouth, sloppy and full of want. Ryan's eyes slid shut as the Brit began to rock against him, ass pressing against Ryan's thighs, working toward a steady rhythm.

 

Images danced on the backs of Ryan's eyelids, flashing through the half-remembered visuals he'd created of Gavin like this while the Brit was still back in his home country. All he could think was how much better it was to have the real thing, sensuously writhing on top of him.

 

Gavin's mouth fell away as the pace built, panting breath hot on Ryan's collarbone, still gripping tight at the older man's shoulders. Ryan gazed down the younger man's tawny locks and yearned to tangle his fingers in the soft strands, wrists jerking against the handcuffs. He wished that they were play-cuffs, so he could hit the little safety release lever, but these were a pair that he himself had stolen from a cop, so he knew there was no getting out until Gavin unlocked the cuffs for him. He whined in the back of his throat, thrusting helplessly up against Gavin, almost throwing off the younger man's stride.

 

Then, in one sinuous motion, Gavin's back arched, hands pulling away from Ryan's shoulders and settling instead on the blond's knees, rhythm not skipping a single beat as he fucked himself on Ryan's cock. With his head tipped back, chest flushed and wanton moans slipping from his lips, Gavin was truly a sight to behold. Ryan stared, transfixed by the younger man's erotic bouncing as he used Ryan as an instrument for his own pleasure.

 

The Brit moaned, head back, the elegant column of his throat bared to Ryan. But Ryan couldn't do anything about it, couldn't caress it with his hands, couldn't mark it up with his mouth. Pleading sounds clawed their way out from between Ryan's lips, pleading Gavin's name with half-formed cries as desire swept through him, the lovely heat of the man atop him sending him closer and closer to the edge. His fingers twitched, futilely trying to reach for Gavin's body.

 

One of Gavin's hands lifted from Ryan's knee, the Brit's entire body clenching and shifting to adjust to the uneven distribution of his weight as he took himself in hand. Sweat glistened on his skin, left hand gripping tight at Ryan's knee to keep from slipping, jaw hanging slack in a near-continuous moan as he furiously pumped himself.

 

It was too much for Ryan. His body heaved upwards, nearly unseating the Brit as orgasm overwhelmed him, shooting his load deep inside Gavin.

 

The younger man continued to ride him, the wet sound of him fucking himself on Ryan's spent cock making him groan low in his throat. Overstimulation burned in his periphery, and Ryan danced in the flames, entranced still by Gavin's grace. His movements were so fluid, so full of ecstatic intent, that Ryan was fairly sure he'd be content to just watch the Brit atop him like this for the rest of his life.

 

Finally, Gavin found his release as well, spurting all over Ryan's chest and neck, hand slowly stilling but remaining loosely wrapped around his cock. Trying to get his panting breath under control, Gavin leant back against Ryan's thighs, still seated on the older man as his chest rose and fell.

 

"Missed you," Gavin mumbled, and Ryan chuckled softly beneath him.

 

"I could tell," he murmured back, yawning.

 

"We should go shower."

 

Ryan grunted noncommittally. "Probably."

 

Gavin mock-frowned at him. "Definitely," he corrected. I've got your come in my ass, and you've got my come all over your chest."

 

The blond shrugged, eyes closed. "'S fine. We can go in the morning. After sleep."

 

"It'll be way worse then."

 

"That's a problem for tomorrow-Ryan."

 

"And tomorrow-Gavin, who I'm more concerned about, really."

 

"So? Go shower then. 'M not stopping you."

 

"Ryan," he growled. "You need to have a shower. I'm not going to sleep next to you if you're covered in come. Get out of bed, right now."

 

With a sound of protest, Ryan finally dragged himself out of bed. Gavin shook his head.

 

"Like dealing with a five year old," he muttered.

 

"I can hear you," Ryan told him as they both padded towards the bathroom, Ryan's steps noticeably heavier and more reluctant.

 

"I know. That was the point."

 

"Muh," was Ryan's eloquent response.

 

Gavin just smiled and turned on the shower.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I got it out in time! *party poppers*
> 
> For those of you who don't follow me on tumblr, I’m going on holidays on Friday, and I’ll be gone for a month. I’m not going to have my laptop with me while I’m gone, so it’ll be a good while before I have anything new to post. I’ll still have my phone and internet access, of course, so still feel free to send me asks about whatever, just be aware it’s going to be some time before I have any new fics for you lovely folk.
> 
> Anyway, this time we have content warnings for about 400 words of sex in a 4000 word fic. That’s actually a very low small ratio for me. 
> 
> Basically, I’m kicking off another arc of this fic - which, I’ll admit, not the best timing, but trust me, you guys are gonna love it when it gets where it’s going.

Ryan and Gavin didn't even get a full twenty-four hours to spend by themselves before they had to get back to work.

 

Gavin's trip, in fact, had been a launching point for the beginning stages of Geoff's next heist.

 

"All right, boys," Geoff began, a manic grin peeking out from behind the semi-serious front he was presenting to all the senior crew members gathered in the planning room. "I'm sure you've all been wanting some more information about what Michael and Gavin were up to across the pond, so I'm going to fill you in.

 

"Gav's buddies over in the UK have managed to grab hold of a simulation copy of Atlas, which right now is considered the most advanced electronic security that money can buy. From what I understand - which is mostly the basics, mind you, I'm gonna leave the details to that nerd over there." He flicked his hand at Gavin, who looked only slightly offended by the dismissive action. "From what I understand, this simulation copy is kind of like a final beta version of the current system, so Gavin'll be able to dick around with that and figure out how to get in. Any of your friends want to fly over and pitch in?"

 

Gavin leant back and grinned. "I'm sure I can convince one of 'em to come over, at least."

 

"All right, good. The two of you crack the simulation version, then we go after one of the real-life versions - the one being used by the Maze Bank. We're gonna take everything we can."

 

Low murmurs picked up, Jack letting out a quiet whistle. Geoff silenced them with a look, and unrolled a floorplan for the bank.

 

"Way it's gonna work is this: first, we've got a woman on the inside, Steffie. She'll plant some tech doodad on one of the security computers here." He pointed at the guard station on the map. "Ray, you'll be up on the roof across the street as a lookout. Jack, you'll have an armoured truck to get the goods out of there. Me, Ryan, Michael, Gavin and Gavin's friend'll get there in a separate car. We go in on a Sunday night, less people around town, overnight guards are bored out of their brains. Gavvy and his UK bud use the tech thing Steffie planted to disable the Atlas building alarm - now it's got some interface thing with the Atlas HQ that pings every five minutes, and alerts the police if anything's wrong, so we gotta make sure we're all inside with the doors shut within one cycle. The two nerds'll set up a video loop so that it looks like the guards are still on their patrol, but really we're already in the building and the guards are dead. Seismic sensors on the main vault get disabled, we start drilling in. Grab everything we can from the vault, load it in bags, pile 'em by this door here." Geoff now pointed to the area where all Gruppe 6 armoured vehicles would perform cash drops and pickups for the bank. "Gavin and Brit Number 2 knock out Atlas again, we toss all the bags outside, where Jack's waiting with the armoured truck with a bunch of empty bags. He'll start loading up what we've brought out. The rest of us grab empty bags and head back to the vault, load up again, rinse, repeat until the truck is full. We'll grab a couple more bags to chuck in the trunk of our car, Ray comes down from lookout once we're out and joins Jack in the truck, then we all get the fuck out of dodge." He looked around the solemn circle of faces around him. "Any questions?"

 

Jack was the first to pipe up. "What kind of take are we looking at?"

 

"Around ten million, if everything goes smooth," Geoff replied calmly.

 

The ginger man's eyebrows rose. "So, just under two mil each? For a heist this size, that isn't actually a whole lot."

 

"Not ten mil total," Geoff corrected. "Each."

 

Stunned silence greeted him for several seconds.

 

"How big of a window are we leaving for Atlas being active so that the alarm doesn't get triggered?" Ryan asked after a few seconds, arms folded. Geoff's eyes flicked to Gavin.

 

"Thirty seconds either side," Gavin replied. "Gives you all four minutes with the doors open every cycle. They'll need to be shut for the alarm to go back up, so everyone needs to be on the dot."

 

Geoff nodded in thanks. "Goes without saying that we'll have to sync all our watches on this one. Time is critical. Anything else?" He waited a few seconds, but no one said anything, still a little shocked by the amount that was at stake. "All right, you think of anything, you come to me. Now, let's get to work on setup. Jack, make sure we've got vehicles ready to go. Try and see if you can get a Stockade that you can paint up like a Gruppe 6 van. Get that new guy Jeremy to help. Gavin, give your friend a call, get 'em on the first flight over here. Ray, Ryan, you're covering munitions. Make sure we're all properly stocked in case things go south. Michael, make sure we've got the right amount of bags to fit in the truck. I don't want any extras taking up space that we could've fit more money into. I'd rather not leave anything behind, either. All understood?"

 

They nodded as one.

 

"Now, I know everyone's got other work to get done for today, but I want to see progress on the heist setup by tomorrow, too." Geoff clapped his hands together with a satisfied expression.

 

"Let's go make some money."

 

~* * *~

 

Ryan came back to the hideout late afternoon after a supply run with Ray, then worked into the evening ensuring that everything was stored properly in the armoury. It was already dark outside by the time they were done, and Ryan was more than ready to go home.

 

He swung by the computer lab to pick up Gavin on his way out, but the room was empty. Brow furrowed, he prowled through the building in search of the younger man. They'd already agreed on going home together that night, surely Gavin would have told him if he'd decided to make other plans?

 

Finally, he heard Gavin's voice in one of the common areas, and moments later saw the Brit, phone to his ear and back to Ryan, chatting away.

 

The Brit's laughter was richer and deeper than it was around the crew, his voice a happy murmur.

 

He sounded like he did when he was talking with Ryan when they were alone.

 

Ryan felt something suspiciously close to jealousy swirl through his chest, narrowing his vision to the point that he almost missed Geoff propped up against one of the walls, feet sticking out as a potential trip hazard. Like Gavin, there was a phone in his hands, but unlike Gavin, he was utterly absorbed in a game of Angry Birds. How this was conducive to ensuring that the heist went off as planned was beyond Ryan, but he elected to ignore it.

 

"Who's Gavin talking to?" Ryan leaned against the wall next to Geoff and jerked his thumb at the Brit.

 

Geoff jumped about a mile, whipping around like Ryan was the last person he'd been expecting to see. "Fuck, dude, don't sneak up on me like that!" he complained, voice cracking, then his brow creased. "Weird. I thought he was talking to you." He pondered for a moment, then his expression cleared. "Oh, that's right, he's probably talking to Dan."

 

"Who's Dan?" Ryan asked, trying not to sound too chary or possessive and failing on both counts. Geoff glanced at him sidelong, but let it slide.

 

"Dan the Man? Oh, he's an old friend of Gavin's, they still work together a bunch. He's usually the one Gav's helping out when he visits the UK. Figure Gavin's calling over to help us out on the heist."

 

"Funny," Ryan replied evenly. "He's never mentioned him to me before."

 

Geoff snorted. "Yeah, because he probably knew you'd react like an asshole," he retorted, and Ryan had the grace to look embarrassed at himself. Gavin happily continued to chat on his phone, completely oblivious to Ryan's presence.

 

"What're doing out here, anyway?" Ryan asked, because it seemed like Geoff was doing a whole lot of nothing.

 

"Waiting for Jack. He said he'd come help me make sure everything's fleshed out properly for the heist, but his fat ass is taking its sweet time getting over here." He rubbed at his perpetually tired eyes. "Gonna be another late night for ole Geoffy." Almost as if on cue, Jack appeared through the door, and Geoff rolled his eyes. "Fucking finally," he muttered, tucking his phone away and pushing off from the wall. "All right, let's go." They both vanished back through the door, leaving Ryan alone with one side of the cosy conversation that Gavin was having with Dan.

 

Then Gavin _giggled_.

 

Ryan tried to push down the knot of envy rising in his gut, tried to reason it away. After all, he never reacted like this when Gavin was friendly with other members of their crew. Not even when Michael or Geoff were in one of their more playful, hands-on moods. He'd never even met Dan, why should he be jealous of him?

 

But, really, that was exactly the problem. Dan was an unknown quantity. Ryan had no idea what Gavin's history with him was, whereas he knew that no one in the crew had designs for Gavin. The way the younger man had been speaking to Dan definitely pointed towards a deep affection between them, and Ryan wasn't sure whether he wanted to know if that had ever gone any deeper.

 

He strode over to the Brit, hand settling firmly on the Brit's shoulder. Gavin jumped at the sudden touch, but then gave the older man a startled smile. And was it just Ryan's paranoia kicking in, or did Gavin look a little _guilty_?

 

Gavin pressed the phone against his shoulder. "Bloody Christ, Ryan, you scared the shit out of me!" he scolded gently, then returned to the call. "I've got to go now, yeah B? I'll see you when you get here." He ended the call and stuffed his phone in his pocket, the action hasty, like he was trying to hide evidence of a crime.

 

"Who're you talking to?" Ryan asked, just to make sure. Somehow, he kept his tone from sounding accusatory. His teeth ground together with the effort.

 

The Brit either didn't notice his tension, or was ignoring it. "Oh, I was just chatting with a mate of mine, Dan," he replied airily, and to Ryan, the words were said just a little too casually. "He's flying over to help me with my part of the heist. He's just about to board, I was just making sure he's got everything in order."

 

Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Bit late to check if he's forgotten anything if he's just about to board."

 

Gavin blushed slightly, the colour barely showing on his tanned skin. "Yeah, well, y'know," he said lamely.

 

The blond chose to overlook the piss-poor answer. "He any good? You sure we can trust him?" _Can I trust him with you?_

 

"Of course we can, I've known him since forever. Dan's the reason I even got into computers at all, really. He's a damn idiot with just about everything else, but he's a bloody genius when it comes to any kind of machine." He smiled fondly, his features soft, and Ryan struggled to keep a lid on his seething jealousy. "Never would have made it to America in the first place without his help."

 

Ryan managed to unclench his jaw. "Sounds like I'll have to thank him for that when he gets here."

 

Gavin beamed suddenly. "Yeah, you're right, I wouldn't have met you without him! That would've been a real shame."

 

The older man shifted his feet. "You ready to go?"

 

"Yep. Got nothing else left to do," Gavin shrugged. The hit man nodded, wordlessly heading off to the garage, leaving Gavin to trail after him.

 

Still not speaking, he handed Gavin his helmet and then donned his own, barely waiting for Gavin to settle in behind him before taking off.

 

By design, there wasn't any conversation on their ride home, but Ryan was still silent even as they rode up in the elevator. Gavin had noticed the tension by now, and the quiet seemed too thick to break on his own. Only when their front door clicked shut behind them did Ryan even seem to acknowledge Gavin's presence, turning on the Brit and pressing him to the nearest wall with rough kisses. Gavin gasped and sighed as he melted into the touch, still not having had nearly enough of Ryan since their long separation.

 

Ryan pawed at the buttons on Gavin's shirt, barely undoing enough to expose the skin of Gavin's shoulders before his lips and teeth descended, leaving dark marks like brands on his flesh.

 

"What's got you so worked up?" Gavin murmured breathily, head tipping back as Ryan laid claim upon his skin.

 

"Supply run was a pain in the ass to deal with today." Ryan muttered the lie against the Brit's neck, unwilling to admit that he'd be so petty as to be jealous of someone he'd never even met. He pushed the thought away and instead pushed his hand up against the crux of Gavin's thighs, feeling the Brit growing hard through his jeans. Gavin accepted the answer easily, rolling into Ryan's touch and gently nudging him in the direction of the bedroom. The blond allowed the small push, flipping Gavin around in front of him so that the Brit's ass ground up against him, slender form chased by Ryan's.

 

He didn't offer much preamble before he turned the Brit to face him once more and let them both fall into bed, any potential words smothered by his lips on Gavin's. The rest of the buttons on the Brit's shirt popped free of the buttonholes, some nearly torn off but still clinging on by a few resolute threads. Breaking away to pull his own shirt over his head, Ryan was quick to press his lips against Gavin's again, his fingers now dropping to his belt, deftly pulling it off with a slithering clink. Gavin fumbled at the fly of his jeans, hips arching up and crotch brushing up against Ryan's.

 

They worked their way out of their pants, Ryan reaching for the lube on the nightstand. He made short work of prepping the Brit, eager to get properly started.

 

Gavin assumed that Ryan was using this as a way to vent his frustration from the day, when what Ryan was really doing was trying to prove to himself that Gavin wanted him.

 

Either way, the outcome was the same - Gavin screaming Ryan's name in ecstasy as he hit orgasm, going limp and breathless as Ryan came deep inside him. They held still for a few moments, then gently pulled apart, panting as they each tried to catch their breath.

 

Ryan gazed down at the Brit, idly running a few fingers through sweat-damp brown hair. He was struck suddenly by how lovely Gavin was in that instant - skin rosy, lashes like dark crescent moons, lips curled contently upwards. Ryan felt so glad that he had Gavin to himself like this.

 

Those three little words danced tantalisingly on his tongue, but fear and uncertainty bit them off long before he could muster the courage to say them. Instead, he gave Gavin a kiss and a smile before standing up. "You coming?" he asked, jerking his head in the direction of the en suite.

 

Gavin smiled sleepily, golden skin aglow and contrasting beautifully against the white sheets. "You've worn me out, Rye, I don't know that I'm up for another round."

 

"I didn't mean that," Ryan said fondly, then his eyes dropped and he shrugged. "Sometimes a shower's just a shower."

 

"With you in a minute, then," Gavin replied, groaning as he stretched himself out across the bed.

 

Ryan crossed the room, leaving the bathroom door open as he stepped over to the shower and flipped the tap on, not bothering to wait for the water to heat up before stepping under the spray. His skin prickled with the cold, but he ignored it, eyes closed as the water ran over him.

 

By the time Gavin joined him, the goosebumps had faded and steam had begun to mist around his ankles, snaking its way towards the ceiling.

 

"Hi," Gavin said with a cheeky grin, ducking his head under the deliciously warm spray, then flicking his wet hair out of his eyes. Ryan rolled his eyes as he passed the shampoo to the Brit, but he was smiling as he did it. He turned back to the tap and flicked it to full power so that the spray was wide enough for both of them, then scooped up the body wash, squirting a small amount onto his palm.

 

He went to lather himself up, but at the last second changed his mind and rubbed it onto Gavin's back instead. The younger man went still, impish grin fading and eye half-lidded as Ryan's broad hands worked over his shoulders, gently massaging as he went.

 

It wasn't anything like the times Ryan had washed him after a particularly intense session in bed and he felt too exhausted to even shower himself properly. Although lovely, there was always the unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that the state Gavin was in meant he _needed_ the help. This, however, was simply Ryan doing something nice because he just felt like it. It was so simple, it felt so natural, and Gavin had no idea what to do besides letting it happen.

 

Ryan placed a gentle kiss on a non-sudsy part of Gavin's neck, and the brunet's lips parted of their own accord. He turned to face Ryan, and the older man took hold of his hand, lifting it palm-up only to pour some body wash into it.

 

"You should probably get the rest yourself," he said awkwardly, and Gavin didn't know whether the redness of Ryan's face was from the steam or if he was actually blushing. The blond turned away slightly and began washing himself, but stilled when Gavin dropped a kiss on his shoulder.

 

"Well, I've gotta return the favour first," he murmured, slender fingers rubbing the body wash in soft circles, bubbles coating the broad muscle of Ryan's back. He heard Ryan let out a soft sigh and kept going, fingers pressing lightly into taut muscle. Ryan could do with a proper massage, it felt like his muscles were coiled tight as a spring.

 

He pulled away before the thought became too comfortable, still not yet at terms with how much he cared about Ryan.

 

"Can you pass us some more soap?" he asked, studiously not meeting Ryan's eyes. They both cleaned the rest of their bodies in silence, rinsing all the body wash from their skin without speaking.

 

Still without uttering a word, Ryan used a curled forefinger to lift Gavin's chin, seeming to fight some sort of internal battle before gently kissing him, once, on the lips. The sweetness of it made Gavin's mouth tingle, and he stood on the wet tile for several seconds after Ryan got out, draped himself in his towel, and started to dry off. Gavin just stared at his scarred body and broad shoulders, his hard edges softened by the steam still fogging up the glass of the shower.

 

Only once Ryan had left the en suite did his brain seem to kick back into gear, and he hastily towelled off, snagging a pair of sweatpants he'd left in the bathroom earlier to sleep in. When he padded back into the bedroom, Ryan was seated on the bed, similarly dressed and a small box nestled in his hands. Gavin joined him cautiously, eyes flicking from the box to Ryan's face. The older man didn't meet his gaze directly, seeming bizarrely shy.

 

"This is for you," Ryan told him quietly. "I've been meaning to give it to you for a while now. I hope you never actually have to use it, of course, but I still want you to have it."

 

The Brit gave him a quizzical look, a bit wary of his serious tone. Still, it would be rude to refuse a gift, so he took the box from Ryan's hands, setting it down in front of him before lifting the lid. He couldn't help but gasp when he saw what was inside.

 

Gavin had never considered guns as particularly beautiful objects, but this one was. Sleek and silver, he could already see the way the pistol would fit perfectly in his hand - small enough to be easily concealed on his person, big enough that it still screamed deadly. He lifted it gingerly from the box, handling it like a newborn. "It's lovely, Rye," he breathed. "Where did you get it?"

 

"I bought it when I was young. First gun I ever owned, actually. I had this whole stupid thing about it being a significant milestone for me, I blew a decent chunk of my savings at the time on it. It would be…" He squinted a little, then nodded. "Yeah, I've had it over half my life, never jammed the whole time. Very reliable. Now I'm passing it on to you."

 

"Ryan… it has to have some pretty hefty sentimental value for you to keep it for that long. I can't accept this."

 

"You absolutely will," Ryan replied firmly. "It's a gift, and you're keeping it."

 

"Ryan-"

 

"It's one of those things that passes from teacher to student. I've taught you everything I can about using a gun," Ryan continued, cutting him off. "Consider it like a graduation present."

 

The Brit's eyes dropped back to the gun, slender fingers tracing the streamlined edges. "Really, Rye, it's beautiful. Thank you."

 

Ryan smiled gently. "You're welcome."

 

Gavin kept his gaze down, fingertips still stroking the pistol's lines. "Is this, like… an anniversary gift, or something? Only, it's been a year today since you dragged me into that closet, which started all this-" he motioned between them, "-and now I feel bad for not getting you anything."

 

The older man was quiet for a long moment. "Is it really a year exactly? I hadn't realised. Just one of those coincidences, I guess."

 

Gavin glanced up, but Ryan's eyes were averted from his, and it was impossible to tell if the hit man was being truthful.

 

"Oh… okay," Gavin replied quietly, withdrawing a little, and Ryan cursed himself for his consistent inability to be open about his feelings.

 

"It's late, why don't you pack that away? We've had a long day today, and we'll have another tomorrow," he said eventually, even though it was still several hours before they usually went to bed.

 

Gavin nodded, yawning despite himself. It wasn't a lie, after all - the preparations for the upcoming heist on top of their usual work responsibilities had them all busy. He carefully tucked the gun back into its box, sliding the whole thing under the bed and allowing himself to be wrapped up in Ryan's waiting arms. His eyes closed immediately and he settled in, head tucking comfortably into the hollow of Ryan's throat. In the space of a few minutes, his breathing was steady and even, mind hovering in the zone between wakefulness and rest.

 

Just before he tipped over the edge, so quiet he could have imagined it, he heard Ryan murmur, "Happy anniversary."

 

With a drowsy smile, Gavin fell asleep.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, update! I haven't forgotten about this fic, promise.
> 
> In fact, I just copied and pasted all the sections I've written for future chapters of LIHNTBAUD into one document to check the word count, and it topped out at almost 18K.
> 
> So, y'know, there's that.
> 
> I'll get around to posting it all one day.
> 
> Content warnings for guns, nameless goon murder, Ryan being excessively pissed off, and him then fucking Gavin.

Dan had been in the country less than an hour and Ryan already hated him.

 

To be fair, Ryan _had_ already been inclined to view Dan in an unfavourable light, but the dark-haired Brit's smug, self-satisfied attitude just sealed the deal for Ryan's loathing.

 

Bad enough was the ease with which he interacted with Gavin. They had known each other a very long time, and it showed, a myriad of affectionate gestures passing between them without a second thought.

 

The absolute worst of it, though, was that the rest of the crew seemed to actually _like_ Dan - Ryan was alone in his hatred, and while he made no secret of how he felt about Dan, he had no one to vent to.

 

The rest of them, of course, wrote it off as his usual paranoia and distrust of anyone he didn't already know. He could be thankful, at least, that they didn't suspect the deeper reason behind his detestation of the younger man. Not that they really had much spare time to be thinking about anything other than work - with Dan's arrival, their heist preparations were now in full swing. In fact, it meant that Dan and Gavin practically would be spending the majority of every working day together, sequestered off in the privacy of Gavin's computer lab. It was rare for anyone else to ever venture there, and it made something churn deep inside Ryan's gut to know that Dan would have so much time with Gavin all to himself.

 

It didn't keep him from focusing on his own job. He was a professional, after all.

 

Out on an ordinance run the next day with Ray, stocking up for the heist, he noticed the slight twitchiness of the lead arms dealer, the marginally overeager glances the guy kept throwing at them. He was sure Ray would have picked up on it as well, but just in case, he slipped a prearranged code word into the conversation. When he put down one of the guns he'd been inspecting for purchase and pulled out his own, Ray knew to follow suit, taking everyone on the right while Ryan covered the left. They both weathered the short-lived fight with barely a scratch, a minor bullet graze on Ryan's outer thigh being the worst of it.

 

Ryan approached the lead dealer, who was now sprawled on the ground, blood seeping from his shattered gun hand and busted kneecap. He aimed his pistol at the prone man's head, impassive black mask staring down at him.

 

"You were going to try and double-cross us. Now why would you go and do something stupid like that?"

 

The man sent a panicked glance over at his downed colleagues, but Ray and Ryan had been shooting to kill for everyone else. He gulped, breathing hoarse and fast. "W-we- I just wanted a step up, y'know? I didn't just wanna be a middle man forever! You have any idea what it'd do for me if I was the one to organise a takedown of the Vagabond and the Brownman-"

 

Ryan put a third bullet in the middle of his forehead.

 

Ray rolled his eyes. "Moron." Ryan grunted in agreement.

 

They packed up all the guns, removed any sign of their presence at the scene, and quietly returned back to base. Geoff was less than thrilled that one of their suppliers was dead, but he could hardly fault their reasoning for killing him. He immediately tasked them with cleaning all the ordinance they'd just acquired, and, grumbling but obedient, they dragged everything to the armoury.

 

"This is going to take fucking forever," Ray groused, lip curled in distaste as he surveyed the guns, explosives and ammunition laid out before them.

 

“Shouldn't take that long," Ryan said with a sigh, not sounding entirely hopeful. "'Sides, means we've got all the more to cover our asses with if something goes wrong on the heist. And even if it does, this'll keep us stocked for a while after."

 

"Fair enough," Ray replied, shoulders slumping slightly. "Still not happy about it."

 

"Yeah, well," Ryan murmured, not particularly looking forward to the task either. "If those guys were planning on knocking us off - as ill-conceived as their plan was - we can't blindly trust that all of these are in perfect working order."

 

Ray muttered something under his breath, and that was the last either of them spoke for the next several hours. Both of them found a strange sense of calm, disassembling and cleaning and reassembling weapons designed to kill and inflict pain. Neither of them were hurried in their motions. Instead, they were measured, methodical, thorough. Hours passed without meaning.

 

Despite their initial complaining, they both found themselves with a deep sense of contentment, minds untethered, thinking of nothing as they worked.

 

Eventually, though, they had to come back to reality.

 

Ryan picked up a clean rag, reaching for the next gun only to realise they were all done. The bullets all gleamed in their cases, every pistol, every SMG was neatly packed away. Ryan tucked the rag into his back pocket and stood with a slight groan, clapping his hands together and smearing grease. Ray got to his feet as well, spine cracking in a series of satisfying-sounding pops.

 

The younger man yawned, fishing out his phone and blinking blearily at the time it displayed. His eyebrows rose slightly. "Welp. That's my day gone. See ya tomorrow, Ryan." He saluted the blond mockingly, sauntering out the door.

 

Ryan licked his lips reflexively, trying to clear away the cottony feeling of his mouth. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything for hours, and he decided to quickly rectify that by heading to the kitchen, hastily gulping down a glass of tap water. He scrubbed the leftover grease from his fingers, his stomach gurgling at him as it reacted to the sudden influx of liquid.

 

He fished out his phone, checking to see if Gavin had sent him any message to let him know that he'd left earlier. It was quite a bit later than they normally finished, Ryan wouldn't have been surprised. But there was nothing, suggesting that Gavin too had lost track of time, and was still ensconced in the computer lab with Dan.

 

Possessive jealousy swelled up within him, his earlier calm forgotten as he strode purposefully in the direction of Gavin's workplace.

 

~* * *~

 

"Shit," Gavin cursed crossly, the words 'ACCESS DENIED' flashing onto his screen for what felt like the millionth time that day. With an irritated groan, he ran both hands through his hair, tugging on the ends and making it stand up wildly. He slouched back in his chair, hands dropping limply over the armrests, feeling defeated.

 

Dan glanced over from his own computer, and finished up the line of code he was writing before standing. The discs in his spine popped as he stretched from being sedentary for so long, and he let out a quiet sigh of satisfaction at the feeling as he made his way over to Gavin's desk. "What's up?"

 

The other Brit gestured an unenthusiastic hand towards the screen. "It's this stupid dumb Atlas beta," Gavin grumbled. "I've tried absolutely everything I know, and nothing's working. I don't know how the hell we're supposed to get in."

 

"Hmm," Dan mused, leaning against the back of Gavin's chair, arms looping around to rest on the sides. "Have you tried running a-"

 

"I'm not an idiot," Gavin said irately, knowing exactly what Dan was going to ask. "That's the equivalent of asking if I've tried turning it off then on again."

 

"Fair enough," Dan replied with a grin, then his face grew pensive once more, eyes narrowing as he stared at the screen. He reached around Gavin's shoulders to tap rapidly at the keyboard, but he didn't get more than a few lines in before Gavin told him, "Tried that."

 

Dan deleted the short section of code and started over, but only a few seconds later Gavin told him, "And that.

 

" _And_ that," Gavin repeated wearily several moments later. "This is all basic stuff you're trying, B, have you actually been doing any work yourself over there?"

 

Dan poked his tongue out at Gavin, but then actually focussed. He leant forward to rest his chin on Gavin's shoulder, fingers a blur over the keyboard.

 

The dark-haired Brit's cheek was warm against his own, but Gavin hardly noticed, eyes rapt by the code streaming across the screen. His eyebrows climbed progressively higher into his hairline, all but vanishing underneath the messy locks. Dan didn't bother to explain what he was doing, as he knew that Gavin would be able to absorb it immediately.

 

Within the space of five minutes, the words 'ACCESS GRANTED' had flashed onto the screen, and Gavin's jaw dropped.

 

"Follow along all right with that, B?" Dan teased, fingers still splayed across the keys.

 

"That's not fair. How did you… Did you rig this?"

 

"Nope," Dan replied smugly. "I'm just good with my hands, you should know that by now."

 

"That was… amazing. And completely not fair. How could you _possibly_ crack it that easily?"

 

"I actually figured it out 'bout twenty minutes ago," Dan relented, grinning. He straightened slightly, resting his forearms against the back of Gavin's chair. "To be fair, B, I got to play around with it for a little while before you did. I'm sure you'd've gotten there eventually. Still slower than me overall, of course, but you'd get there." He propped his chin on Gavin's shoulders once more, striking a few keys to clear the screen. "All right, now let's see you do it, see if there's any shortcuts you can find. We need to get a couple different ways in, we can't be 100% on what will work with the real version."

 

The sound of Ryan's heavier-than-usual footsteps alerted them both to the older man's presence. Gavin visibly moved himself away from Dan, blushing just the slightest and clearly aware of the intimate position they'd been holding. Dan grinned lazily at Ryan and the blond bristled. Gavin had the grace to look embarrassed.

 

"Hey, Ryan, my favourite murderous psychopath," Dan greeted cheerfully, studiously ignoring the mortified look Gavin was giving him. "Stab anyone today?"

 

"Not yet," Ryan replied calmly, dangerously, and Dan pouted comically.

 

"Come on, now, I'm just having a bit of fun, you don't have to go all serial killer death stare on me," he complained, then turned his attention back to Gavin, hands on the slender Brit's shoulders. "Hey, Gav, d'you want to ask him if he knows exactly how many people it is he's killed? And which do you think would be worse," he murmured, lips almost touching Gavin's ear, eyes fixed on Ryan's, "that he knows the exact number, or that he's lost count?"

 

With that, he straightened up once more. "Well, I'm off to dinner, should've eaten hours ago already. See you later, Gavin," he called over his shoulder as he began walking towards the door, only grinning when Ryan deliberately shifted his weight into Dan's path so that their shoulders collided.

 

Gavin's eyes flicked to Ryan's but he couldn't stop his own smile. "Later, Dan."

 

Ryan watched him leave with narrowed eyes, arms folded, clearly seething as the door shut behind the dark-haired Brit. The tendons of his neck stood out with tension. The sight of Ryan so pissed off shouldn't have turned Gavin on as much as it did. When Ryan's eyes snapped back to him, the Brit was proud of the fact that his arousal wasn't showing.

 

The blond's eyebrows were pulled low over stormy blue eyes. "I don't like the way he looks at you." 

 

Gavin grinned lopsidedly. "Why? Is it making you jealous?" he teased, adding a small chuckle to end, knowing exactly how Ryan would react and relishing in it.

 

Ryan didn't laugh. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height - which, to Gavin, who was still sitting down, suddenly seemed immensely tall - and stalked over to Gavin's chair, resting his weight on the arms. Gavin shrank back into the plush seat. His dilated pupils and his increase in heartrate could easily be mistaken for fear, but the way he spread his legs almost unconsciously betrayed his sudden lust. Ryan leant forward so that his lips brushed Gavin's ear, making the Brit gulp and breathe a little quicker as the older man growled, _"Very."_

 

Gavin gasped as Ryan's lips latched onto the sensitive pulse point of his neck, hands gripping at the arms of his chair. It scooted backwards a few paces before hitting the edge of Gavin's desk and Ryan leant in, forcing the Brit to sink even deeper into the upholstery. Unceremoniously, Ryan groped at the front of Gavin's jeans, making him gasp and whine as he was roughly stimulated to the point of straining against his zipper. Then, Ryan's hands were deftly undoing Gavin's pants, licking his palm before taking the younger man's cock in hand and pumping it to full hardness, a matching bulge growing in his own jeans. Gavin let out a soft noise as Ryan yanked him further down in the chair, forcing his legs up and simultaneously placing two fingers by the corner his mouth. Obediently, the Brit sucked them, and as soon as they were sufficiently wetted, Ryan pushed Gavin's legs up even further and sank a slicked finger into Gavin's hole, quickly adding a second. He gave the Brit a few cursory pumps before pulling away, wiping his fingers on the cloth he had tucked in his pocket before undoing his belt, slicking himself up with some of his own spit and pushing into Gavin's barely-slackened hole. Gavin bit down on his arm to avoid making too much noise, eyes fluttering shut and revelling in the burn. Ryan gathered his wrists in one hand, pinning them to the head of the chair as he grabbed at the desk with the other.

 

"Mine," Ryan rumbled, barely sounding human as he thrust all the way in. "You're mine. No-one else's."

 

"I'm yours, just yours!" Gavin babbled as his knees bumped against his ears. Ryan was quick to set up a ferocious pace that left Gavin trying to muffle his moans against his arm, head twisted sideways and cheek mashed against the chair's upholstery. The tip of Gavin's cock slipped under the hem of his own shirt, smearing precome against his skin, and he bit his lip at even the slight stimulation there, quickly swallowed by the way Ryan was unerringly slamming into his prostate.

 

It was hard and fast and brutal, and before long Gavin was gasping through his orgasm, coating his stomach and the inside of his shirt. Ryan took a little longer, and Gavin was close to keening from overstimulation when Ryan finally buried himself deep and went still, hands gripping at Gavin's hips hard enough to leave a mark. Their breathing took a while to slow, gradually synching up as their heartrates decreased to a normal rhythm.

 

Ryan pulled out of him gently and Gavin shuddered, head lolling back against the chair as the older man scrounged around for a box of tissues, eventually finding one half-buried under takeaway wrappers.

 

"You need to keep things tidier here," he chastised absently as he cleaned himself off, tucking himself away before wiping up the come slowly leaking from Gavin's slackened hole. He helped the younger man stand and pull his pants back up, but made no move to help clean up the mess Gavin had made of the underside of his shirt. Ryan smirked. "Except for that. You can keep that as a reminder of who you belong to."

 

Gavin whimpered, knowing already that the discomfort of having dried come on his stomach would be a distant secondary to the arousal he would feel knowing what it symbolised. Not to mention that the majority of Ryan's come was still inside him, and would slowly seep out of him until they went home and he had a chance to clean himself up. He sat down again with a quiet groan, already feeling stiff and raw, a deep-seated ache radiating from his backside up his spine. All it did was make his cock twitch, still immersed in the sensation of being so thoroughly used.

 

The older man watched him with a small smile. "I'm planning on grabbing something to eat before I go home, you coming?"

 

With a muffled sound of protest, Gavin eased himself out of the chair once more. "I haven't eaten since lunch, I could definitely go for dinner. What time is it, even?"

 

"Just past nine."

 

Gavin's eyes bulged out of his head slightly. "Jesus, no wonder I'm starving! Lead the way, my stomach's gonna start eating itself soon!"

 

Ryan grinned at him. "You're like a child sometimes, you know that? You weren't so devastatingly famished until I mentioned how late it was."

 

"Yeah, 'cause I didn't realise how long it'd been since I'd eaten!" Gavin whined, pouting.

 

Ryan moved behind him, leaning in close and grabbing his ass, making him moan. "You better get a move on, then," he murmured, the low tone making Gavin's spine tingle deliciously. Ryan slapped his ass and Gavin squeaked, jumping forward a little. The blond laughed. "Here," he said, pulling out his phone. "I'll order some take out instead, it should get there a couple minutes after we do. Anything you want?"

 

"I want whatever you want," Gavin replied, eyelids hooded slightly, and Ryan felt his lips curl upwards at the double meaning. "Meet you in the garage."

 

Gavin didn't quite manage to walk with a steady gait as he left the room.

 

~* * *~

 

Things continued in this pattern.

 

Ryan knew exactly what Gavin was trying to do, but it didn't stop him in the slightest from giving in to it. They certainly both enjoyed the result, even when it meant that Gavin would often be too sore for them to have sex more than maybe once in a day.

 

It was astounding, really, that the others still didn't cotton on to the relationship between them, but then they were all so busy still with the heist preparations on top of their normal work. Very little time was left to notice things like that. Even the encounters themselves were short by necessity, quick stolen moments lest they actually be discovered.

 

The rest of the main crew did, however, begin to notice just how thick the tension between Dan and Ryan was. It was impossible not to. While Dan was treating the fact with a rather liberal sense of amusement, it became a growing concern just how aggressive and standoffish Ryan would become whenever he was so much as in the same room as the dark-haired Brit.

 

Surprisingly, it was Michael rather than anyone else that brought up the issue.

 

"Hey, Ryan, you got a minute?" The redhead glanced around, looking for anyone that might overhear. He respected Ryan enough to not want an audience when he called the older man out on his behaviour.

 

Ryan folded his arms, wary at Michael's cautious tone. "…Sure?"

 

"I didn't want to bring this up in front of the guys," he began, keeping his voice low, "But you really need to tone it down with how much you don't like Dan. You're a fucking professional, dude, you're getting way too far into your own head about this. Geoff'll probably take you aside if something doesn't change quick. You really should get on top of it yourself, no-one wants you to get embarrassed like that."

 

"What're you talking about?" Ryan replied gruffly, bristling at the implication that he was the one in the wrong.

 

Michael rolled his eyes at Ryan's purposeful obtuseness, then stuck out his jaw and rounded his shoulders, letting out an unflattering, gorilla-like grunt. "Ugh, I'm the Vagabond, I don't like change, I only like guns and killing things," he mocked, then relaxed back to normal. "Seriously, Ryan, you need to calm your shit. I get that you don't trust easily and stuff, but you're really freaking out over this new guy, and you don't need to. Not this much. It's just the one job, anyway, it's not like he's sticking around forever."

 

"I still don't like him," Ryan muttered.

 

Michael sighed. "Look, I'll even vouch for him, all right? I was working with Dan for almost a month in the UK, I think I know him a bit better than you. He's a bit like Gavin, really - kind of an asshole, but still fun to hang out with, and more importantly, still gets the job done. Just give the guy a chance. We've got enough shit to deal with right now without you constantly acting like you're about to stab him."

 

Ryan huffed childishly, and Michael pinched his own nose, eyes scrunching. "God, if nothing else, do it for Gavin's sake."

 

The blond stared at him, his heart doing a funny little twist. Had Gavin told Michael they were together? He'd known that the two Lads had grown quite close, but surely Gavin would have at least given him _some_ form of heads up if he'd told-

 

"Jesus, for a smart guy, you're really fuckin' dense sometimes." Michael shook his head, mistaking the reason for Ryan's shocked silence. "Yeah, Gavin's a bit of a tool sometimes, but he'd never admit that he is one of the most insecure people ever. He's known Dan longer than he's known anyone else, how d'you think it makes him feel to have someone in his crew shitting all over his choice of long-term friends?"

 

Ryan looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

 

"Look, I know you're a snap judgement kind of guy. You've gotta be, with what you do. Just… give him a chance, for fuck's sake."

 

"I'm not promising I'll think much different of him if I do," Ryan warned.

 

Michael made an appeasing gesture. "That's fucking fine, just as long as you have an informed opinion or whatever. And as long as you stop acting like you're one insult away from ripping his goddamn throat out." He raised his eyebrows slightly. "Can I tell Geoff that he doesn't need to sit you down and ask you to be at least _kind_ of civilised?"

 

The older man huffed, but nodded grudgingly. Michael let out a sigh of relief.

 

"Thank fuck. That'll definitely make the heist meetings a lot easier." He clapped Ryan on the shoulder, then, seeing that the hit man clearly wasn't altogether pleased with the outcome of their conversation, promptly made his exit.

 

 Ryan let out a slow breath. All right, he'd give being the bigger man a shot. But, seeing how _Dan_ was the one causing the fucking problem, he couldn't see how that was going to help much.

 

Still. He could appreciate the strain that this was causing for the crew, and he knew just how important it was for everyone to be working cohesively if they wanted to pull off the heist successfully.

 

He also appreciated the fact that Michael had brought up the issue up at the end of the day, so he could easily fob off actually taking any action until tomorrow.

 

Because even the thought of having to swallow his pride like that made his lip curl in distaste.

 

If he was going to do this, then first he needed to go home to Gavin and have a mutually beneficial way to vent his frustration.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I've been looking forward to this chapter for so long, big things are about to happen!
> 
> If that sentence doesn't strike terror in your heart, it should.
> 
> Content warnings for smut, Dan being a major fucknozzle, blood, mild physical violence, threats upon life and limb. Enjoy.

Ryan entered his apartment in time to see the setting sun light up everything inside with a vibrant orange. An episode of _Friends_ was playing at high volume in front of the empty couch, the flickering reflected motion dancing on the leather sofa fighting back against the radiance of the sun. Gavin looked up from the kitchen bench, where he was mixing a generous amount of whiskey with his coke, and grinned at him, the sunset glow seeming to set his hair ablaze.

 

"Finally, was wondering when you'd get home!" He bellowed over the top of the TV, then gestured at the bottle of liquor before taking a sip from his glass, raising it in mock-toast. "Decided to keep myself entertained while I waited for your slow ass to get here."

 

Raising an eyebrow, Ryan scooped up the remote and muted the TV. "I can see that," he said mildly, making his way to the kitchen.

 

"Oi, don't you go making fun of my show, _Friends_ is class!" Gavin protested, pointing an accusatory finger at him, but somewhat ruining his conviction by downing half his drink in one go. He eyed Ryan's approaching form greedily, already knowing where things were going.

 

Ryan sidled up behind him, rough hands on his slender hips. "I can let you get back to watching TV if you like," Ryan offered with a smirk, lips against Gavin's throat. The Brit shivered deliciously. "But I've got other ways to keep you _entertained_ that I think you might enjoy."

 

Gavin gulped down another large portion of his drink, then purposefully abandoned it, leaning in to Ryan's touch. "That so? Anything particular in mind?" he murmured, striving for nonchalance, and actually getting most of the way there. Ryan chuckled.

 

"Oh, I can think of a few things," he replied, one hand slipping forward from Gavin's hip to softly massage the front of his jeans, kissing at the juncture of Gavin's shoulders and neck.

 

"You've got my attention," Gavin replied breathily, letting his head tip back onto the older man's broad shoulder, throat bared and hands gripping tight at the dark marble countertop. His eyes seemed more hazel than green in the stark glow of the sunset, almost seeming to be lit from within.

 

The older man chuckled and popped the button on Gavin's pants. "I would certainly hope so."

 

Gavin twisted, mouth seeking Ryan's, their lips meeting with a gentle press. He sighed into Ryan's mouth as the older man worked the fly of his jeans down, hand slipping inside and kneading Gavin through just the cotton of his boxers. Gavin's tongue pushed into Ryan's mouth, heady-sweet with the mixture of coke and whiskey, but the taste quickly faded, until the only flavour left was his own.

 

One of Gavin's hands reached up, curling behind Ryan's head, slotting their mouths together even harder. The other grabbed at Ryan's hip, grinding back against him and groaning as he felt Ryan's burgeoning erection press against him. His body arched back against Ryan's, drawn taut, ribcage pressing his lungs down and making his breath shallower, making him lightheaded. He felt Ryan searching his front pockets for the lube and condoms he always kept stashed there - they had more than a little bit of history by now of having sex in unconventional places, so Gavin felt it prudent to keep himself prepared at all times. The foil packets flared orange, catching the sun as Ryan tossed them onto the counter.

 

A soft gasp tumbled from Gavin's lips as Ryan tugged both his underwear and jeans down in one go, unceremoniously bending him over the counter. Gavin's hands pulled free of where they caressed Ryan's body, elbows cracking slightly against the marble from the forcefulness of it. Gavin moaned, the brief bolt of pain sending a flare of heat through him, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched Ryan scoop up the sachet of lube.

 

Moments later, slicked fingers were sliding down the cleft of his ass, making him jump before he moaned again. Ryan chuckled behind him, circling his hole teasingly, then sank a finger in, managing to straddle the line between sensual and efficient as he opened Gavin up.

 

Gavin writhed as much as he could, but the hand that wasn't busy pleasuring him was pressed against the base of his spine, pinning him against the counter. His fingertips scrabbled uselessly against the marble. "God, Ryan, please," he begged, almost whimpering, and the older man obliged, drawing his fingers out of Gavin's stretched hole. He heard the click of Ryan's belt being undone and bit his lip. Still holding the younger man down, Ryan picked up the condom, tearing the wrapper with his teeth and rolling it on one-handed. He squeezed out the last of the lube in the packet and coated the outside before lining up with Gavin's hole.

 

All the air in Gavin's lungs punched out in a groan as Ryan pressed in, Gavin's eyelids sliding halfway shut as he felt himself filled. It didn't take long for Ryan to find the right angle - it never did - and soon a near-constant stream of pleasured sounds fell from Gavin's lips, pressing as far back against Ryan as far as both their bodies would allow.

 

The sun was completely gone by now, only the night-time glow of the city and faint starlight allowing either of them to see. Not that Gavin was looking at a whole lot, eyes closed in rapturous feeling as Ryan moved perfectly into him. Meanwhile, Ryan didn't dare tear his gaze from the lithe body beneath him, the muted light making Gavin's skin seem like warm, soft marble. Ryan smoothed his hands over the barely-lit planes of Gavin's body, moaning quietly at the sublime beauty of the younger man stretched out under him. He buried his mouth against Gavin's neck, unable to help himself, tasting the salty sweat that slicked both of them.

 

Gavin arched under him with a soft cry, spine curving and head tipping back against Ryan as he came, shooting his load against the kitchen cabinet. Ryan reached his climax almost simultaneously, riding out the high with a few more deep, full thrusts before draping himself over Gavin's back, encompassing the smaller man with his bulk, laying his pale, muscled arms over Gavin's tanned, slender ones.

 

After allowing them both a few, quiet moments to regain their breath, Ryan stood and pulled out of Gavin, drawing soft sounds of protest from the both of them. Gavin was slow to gather himself, blinking dreamily as Ryan set about cleaning the kitchen of their extracurricular activities. He flicked on the light and Gavin blinked more, letting out an irate noise at the unexpected brightness.

 

He wadded up the tissues and threw them in the bin, then returned to Gavin's side, unable to keep himself from snagging the younger man by the waist and tugging him into a soft, slow kiss. Gavin's chest was cool from where he'd been splayed across the marble, but eagerly soaked up Ryan's heat, soon becoming warm to the touch.

 

They meandered in the direction of the bedroom, lips still locked. Even though he knew that they should shower and sleep, Ryan felt like a little more indulgence was in order, and steered them in the direction of the bed.

 

They didn't get any further than languorously making out, a fact that Ryan was more than fine with, seeing as they'd both already come once that evening. When he did finally pull away, the way Gavin was gazing up at him stirred an indescribable feeling in his chest. He dropped his gaze.

 

"I've got a present for you," Ryan mumbled, a trifle awkward and uncharacteristically shy.

 

"Another one?" Gavin arched an eyebrow with a smile. "Is this going to be a thing now, you giving me gifts after sex? 'Cause I can definitely get used to that."

 

Ryan shot him a look. "It goes with the other one." He reached across the bed and fished out a low, flat box, about the size of his outstretched hand, from his bedside table, then passed it over. "Here."

 

Gavin accepted the box eagerly, curiosity piqued. Lifting the lid of the box revealed a palm-sized pouch made of soft leather.

 

Seeing Gavin's quizzical look, Ryan explained, "It's a holster, for your gun. Goes in the back of your waistband." He cleared his throat. "So, y'know, it doesn't dig in as much."

 

The Brit's fingers caressed the holster, enjoying the supple texture. "It feels lovely, Rye. Thank you."

 

Ryan smiled, about to add something more, but the moment was lost when Gavin's phone chirped with a new message. The Brit put his present on his bedside table and scooped up the phone, checking to see if it was anything important.

 

"Oh my god." His cheeks went bright red, tossing the phone to the opposite end of the bed. Ryan reached for it before Gavin could stop him.

 

_Dan: 50 quid says I just got in between the two of you shagging_

 

Gavin snatched the phone from his hands, face still burning, despite it being clear the damage had already been done.

 

"You've told him about us?" Ryan asked incredulously, the slightest hint of danger to his tone.

 

"'Course I have, he's my mate," Gavin replied, then, somehow, blushed harder. "Well. I mean, he kind of figured it out. Known me long enough to know my tells'n all that. And, I mean, c'mon. Who else can I brag to that I've had sex with the Vagabond? You've got an international reputation, love, you can't blame me for wanting to flaunt that."

 

"And what about me wanting to keep this quiet?" Ryan challenged, and Gavin gave him an affable wave.

 

"Dan's not actually a member of the crew, he doesn't count. And it's not like I've been blabbing it everywhere, he's the only other person who knows. Plus, I made him swear not to tell."

 

The older man gave him a less-than-convinced look. "Great," he said flatly. "The secrecy of our relationship rests on a pinkie swear."

 

"He won't tell," Gavin insisted, but even as he said it his conviction wavered. He'd only really confirmed Dan's suspicions by accident, still so used to sharing everything with him, and Dan had proven himself capable of breaking serious promises more than once before in the past. It was more hope than trust that powered Gavin's words.

 

Ryan grunted, not entirely pleased. "God, you'll have me having dinner with your parents next."

 

Gavin laughed, but the sound was uncomfortable and forced. "Yeah, fat chance of that. I can't see that ever going down well."

 

Internally, Ryan cringed. Talking about each other's family was an unspoken no-go within the crew, seeing as most of them had less-than-fond memories of their childhood. "Well," he replied a little awkwardly, "At least your money's safe, we'd already finished."

 

A more genuine laugh bubbled up from Gavin's throat, the sound making the older man relax. "That so?" he queried with a raised eyebrow and mischievous tone, fingers trailing with a feather-light touch along Ryan's arm. Goosebumps sprang up in their wake, a warm shiver tingling through Ryan's body at the feeling. "Didn't realise we were entirely done."

 

Ryan grinned. "Your money," he shrugged nonchalantly, shifting onto his side so that he could draw Gavin into another kiss, teeth tugging playfully at the Brit's lips.

 

It was clearly a distraction technique, but Ryan wasn't about to say no.

 

They spent another twenty minutes well and truly exhausting themselves, then, sweaty and sated, finally admitted they needed to clean up and actually use the bed for what it was made for if they wanted to feel even vaguely human the next day.

 

~* * *~

 

The following afternoon brought the moment Ryan had been dreading: having to talk to Dan one-on-one in an enclosed space.

 

Gavin was off with Geoff, giving their boss a briefing on his and Dan's progress with the technological aspects of the heist. Ryan knew this because Geoff had told him about it, dropping entirely unsubtle hints that maybe it would be a good time to have a chat with Dan on his own. Clearly, Michael had relayed the discussion they'd had the day before.

 

Not that it surprised Ryan, of course. It just made him feel hemmed in and pressured, a feeling he didn't appreciate.

 

Which meant he was more than a little uncomfortable, leaning against a desk with affected nonchalance as Dan tapped lackadaisically at a keyboard, entirely in his element.

 

"So, you and Gavin've known each other a long time, huh?" Ryan asked, cringing at how awkward he was being. Mercifully, Dan seemed to ignore it, his reply easy and natural.

 

"Oh, yeah, we go all the way back. Grew up together'n everything. I taught Gavin just about everything he knows about computers, so, y'know. He's _almost_ as good as I am. And I know he likes to boast about how amazing he is at that stuff, which of course means _I'm_ bloody incredible." He grinned cockily, arms behind his head as he swivelled slowly in his chair. The expression dimmed suddenly and he dropped his hands, gaze drifting back to his screen. His forefinger traced idly along the spacebar. "Though I hate how he beats himself up about his abilities whenever I outpace him. He can get so self-conscious about not being the best in town, and I don't like that I bring that out in him. And it's not like I _mean_ to bring it up, y'know?" He sighed. "I guess I've got even more of a problem with boasting than he does."

 

Okay. Dan at least had a soul - probably - and cared about Gavin's emotional wellbeing. Maybe he was at least tolerable. Ryan could work with that.

 

But there was still that one thing that Ryan had to be _sure_ of.

 

"Well, you're obviously close with him," he began, trying to sound casual without it being too forced. "Did you ever hook up or anything, then?"

 

"Oh yeah, loads of times, you don't even know," Dan replied easily, a small smirk returning to his face, eyes still on the screen. The older man saw red. "B's a fun shag. God, the way he moves when there's a cock in him…" He grinned over at Ryan now, eyes twinkling. "But you've figured that out, right?" Not even waiting for an actual reply, he continued, "You two aren't exclusive or anything lame like that, are you? Because no offence, but I've known him way longer than you have and I bet I can still make him scream in ways you can't even-"

 

Dan stopped talking as Ryan hauled him to his feet and punched him square in the nose.

 

Screw trying to be friends, the guy was a soulless douchebag.

 

"Don't you _dare_ talk about him like he's just some hole to fuck," Ryan hissed as blood streamed down Dan's face.

 

The Brit glared suddenly, hand at his nose as he retorted thickly, "Don't pretend to be so high and mighty, then. How many times did you have sex with him before you even thought about kissing him for the sake of kissing him? Or is it still always just a way to warm up to fucking him?"

 

Ryan growled and swung at him again, but Dan dodged, crunching his fist into Ryan's ribcage in retaliation. The older man grunted, then recovered, kneeing Dan in the stomach and making him fold over.

 

"He told me you threatened to kill him during sex once," Dan coughed, struggling to straighten up as Ryan shoved at him. He still managed to lock into a grapple, hands on each other's biceps.

 

"That was a miscommunication," Ryan gritted out, trying to throw off the younger man's balance, trying to hide how much the fact that Gavin had confided in Dan to such an extent hurt him. Telling Dan they were together was one thing, but telling him things in such detail, especially such negative things, felt like a betrayal.

 

Ryan didn't enjoy the feeling.

 

"I don't see how it could be," Dan spat back at him, trying to match Ryan's strength with his own. "Gavin deserves better than you."

 

"And that's you, is it?" Ryan snapped, forcing him back a few steps, close to the desks.

 

"Better than _you_ , you bloody psychopath! I don't care how annoying he can be sometimes, I'd never even _think_ of threatening him like that!"

 

Ryan suddenly kicked at Dan's knee, and it buckled. The older man disengaged from the grapple, only to grab Dan again by one arm, twisting it behind him and slamming the Brit down against one of the desks. A keyboard mashed against his cheek as Ryan's other hand wrapped around his neck.

 

"That was a mistake that will never happen again," Ryan snarled. "But I have no problems threatening _you_. Back the fuck off before you do something that'll make me really hurt you."

 

"Bit late to be warning me now, isn't it?" Dan choked, grinning wildly despite Ryan having gotten the better of him. "Y'know, Gavin's visited the UK for jobs with me quite a few times since you two got together. He was there a whole month, just now, working with me. I'd be asking myself if those visits were really just business, if I were you."

 

"Nothing happened on those visits." Ryan's grip tightened.

 

Dan scoffed inasmuch as he could while being slowly suffocated. "If that's what you think. Won't change the truth, though. Face it, _Rye-Bread_ , the only reason you're angry is 'cause you're jealous, and you're only jealous because deep down you know that Gavin doesn't really love you."

 

The older man squeezed tight long enough for Dan's vision to start to fade, then whipped out the gun he had tucked in the back of his waistband, jamming it against the back of the Brit's neck. His finger rested on the trigger.

 

"Go on, then, do it," Dan challenged even as he scrunched his eyes shut. "Then you can explain to Gavin why you murdered his oldest friend. I'm sure that'll make him love you, since it's obvious whatever kind of pathetic excuse you have for a cock can't, because he wouldn't keep running to me if you were actually enough for him."

 

"Keep talking and we'll see," Ryan replied icily, voice low and hard. "I can be pretty good with words when I need to, I think you'd be surprised what I could have him believe."

 

The door creaked open and Ryan's head snapped towards the sound, then he froze as he saw the confused surprise on Gavin's face.

 

"This isn't what it looks like," Ryan said immediately, realising their rather compromising position.

 

Gavin's eyes widened with confusion and betrayal as he took in the sight of Dan bent over the desk, arms pinned behind him by Ryan, their hips close to flush as Ryan held a gun to the back of the younger man's neck. It was a position similar to ones Gavin had been in himself with Ryan on a number of occasions, and he didn't know what else to think. Then Dan turned his head towards the door, eyes still shut and showing off the blood streaked liberally across his face, and Gavin realised that what he thought was happening wasn't the case at all.

 

Now there was the issue of the fact that it very much looked like Gavin had just caught Ryan in the middle of an attempt to end Dan's life.

 

"Ryan, I don't know what you're think you're doing, but please don't hurt him," Gavin begged shakily, hands up in a position of surrender.

 

Dan sensed an opening and let his eyes crack open, hazel irises filled with pain. "B, please…" he croaked, and Gavin's breath caught.

 

"You don't know the whole story here, Gavin," Ryan tried to placate, but the younger man was barely looking at him, keeping his distraught gaze on Dan's bloodied face. The dark-haired Brit was producing a masterful act of being incredibly dazed and in a considerable amount of agony, struggling weakly against the older man's grip.

 

"Just let him go," Gavin continued in that horrible trembling voice, like he was genuinely terrified of what Ryan would do. "I don't know what you think he's done, but please don't kill him, please don't do it."

 

The older man's grip just tightened. "You didn't hear what he was saying," he growled. "He-"

 

"Gavin, run, please," Dan gasped suddenly, pretending to become more lucid as he thrashed ineffectually against Ryan's hold. "He's going to kill you-"

 

"Shut up! Stop with your bullshit already!" Ryan snapped, gun digging even deeper into Dan's neck, finger twitching just the slightest on the trigger, but Gavin was already by his side, ripping his gun arm away from Dan and aiming it at the ceiling. Dan scrambled away, collapsing onto the floor.

 

"Gavin, I would never-" Ryan began, staring deep into the Brit's eyes and trying to will him into believing the truth, but Dan cut him off again, voice raspy and raw.

 

"Please, Gav, you already told me once he said he'd kill you, he's a bloody lunatic!"

 

"I said shut up!" Ryan snarled at him. "Gavin, he's a fucking liar, don't-"

 

"Ryan, stop," Gavin whispered softly. "Please stop. I didn't want... Just… please, put the gun down."

 

"I'm not going to do that, Gavin. You _didn't hear_ the things he said."

 

Tears filled Gavin's eyes as he drew out his own gun, the one gifted to him by Ryan, and pressed it against the older man's abdomen. Ryan stared at him, letting it happen.

 

" _Please_ , Ryan," Gavin implored, his other hand still gentle and firm against the wrist of Ryan's gun hand. His green eyes glistened and his lips trembled, but he didn't move. "Don't make me choose which one of you gets shot. Please, please don't."

 

 _Tell him how you feel,_ Ryan's mind urged him, and terror at the thought swept through him like a palpable force.

 

A fat lump sat in his throat, cutting off everything he wanted to tell Gavin, all the things he was still too afraid to admit. The words he knew he could say, should say, simply curled up in his throat like a scared animal.

 

_Coward._

 

He slowly lowered his gun onto the desk, hands hanging limply at his sides. Gavin backed up slowly, keeping the gun pointed at Ryan even though his hand was shaking like a leaf in a storm. Without breaking eye contact with the older man, he knelt down and eased Dan off the ground. The other Brit was still acting like he'd been incapacitatingly injured, but when he hobbled out of the room, arm slung over Gavin's thin shoulders for support, the victorious smirk he tossed back at Ryan was all the indication he needed that Dan had planned the entire confrontation.

 

The two Brits disappeared, their footsteps fading into silence, and Ryan angrily snatched up his pistol and emptied the clip into a wall before tossing the gun to the floor. He kicked savagely at one of the chairs, sending it careening wildly across the room as he let out an anguished roar, shoulders hunched and his head in his arms, tugging harshly at his hair.

 

Then he sank to his knees, mind flooding with rage and despair that Gavin had chosen Dan over him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this habit of making Dan an absolute dickbag in my AU fics
> 
> And I'm not sorry


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just realised this is the first chapter of this story that has no sex in it whatsoever. Huh.
> 
> Really, the only warning for this one is a couple mentions of blood, otherwise you’re golden.
> 
> Enjoy!

"I think he's broken it," Dan said, voice nasal through his swollen nose. The blood had been gently wiped away from around his nostrils, but by now the bruises had started to fade in, fantastically painful shades of blue and purple.

 

Gavin made an awkward, sympathetic noise as he hunted in the mostly empty freezer for something to use as an ice pack. He'd brought Dan to his apartment because he couldn't think of anywhere else to take him - going to a safe-house seemed a little extreme, but Dan definitely couldn't stay in the room he'd been using back at the base. Being here only made Gavin realise how long it had been since he'd spent the night here himself, instead spending all his time at Ryan's. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually bought groceries for this place. There wasn't even any ice in the ice tray to use.

 

For lack of a better option, he settled on a quarter-full packet of frozen peas, wrapping the bag in a ratty tea towel before handing it over. Dan winced as he held the bag against his nose, then let out a little sigh as the cold started to seep through.  Gavin turned to the kitchen cabinet, fetching out some mugs and tea bags.

 

"Thanks, B. You really know how to pick them, though."

 

Gavin's shoulders hunched, eyes downcast and going through the motions of making tea for the both of them, routine and familiar and calmingly British.

 

All he could see was the pained betrayal on Ryan's face, the silver pistol pressed into the older man's gut, the way Ryan's hands had slowly dropped without resistance. Like he'd actually thought Gavin would shoot him.

 

God, he never would've done it. But Dan had been hurt, and Ryan had been getting into his Vagabond mindset, and Gavin hadn't known what else to do to get his attention. His stomach clenched unpleasantly as his mind tortured him with images of the gun accidentally going off, of Ryan staggering back, hand clutching at his abdomen to cover a jagged black bullet hole, of red surging beneath his fingertips, of pure shock and confusion on his face as he sank to his knees-

 

Gavin wrenched himself out of the dark imaginings and focused on the tea. Ryan was fine, he berated himself. No one had been shot. Although, the older man probably hated Gavin now, all things considered. The Brit had heard him firing off a gun and roaring angrily as he and Dan left. All of Gavin's lovely monitors were likely riddled with holes.

 

His insides churned and he closed his eyes with a sigh, head bowed.

 

What had he done?

 

"Hey, Gavin," Dan said gently, his voice approaching normal as the swelling started to go down. "You did what you had to, all right? He was being mental, he probably would've shot me if you hadn't shown up."

 

The kettle clicked off, water bubbling away inside. Gavin turned away to fill the mugs. "Pretty sure he hates me for what I did," he murmured, watching the tea bags steep.

 

"Then he doesn't deserve you," Dan replied, and Gavin turned in surprise at the forcefulness of his tone. Dan stepped towards him. " _You_ deserve better." His hand cupped the back of Gavin's neck, trying to draw him closer, but the other man twisted out of Dan's grip, pushing at his chest. The dark-haired Brit let himself be shoved away, but he clearly wasn't happy about it.

 

"Gavin…"

 

"Dan, don't."

 

"Why are you even with him, anyway?" Dan asked, doing his best to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice and still largely failing. He tossed the makeshift icepack onto the counter and folded his arms.

 

Gavin sighed. "Do we really have to do this?"

 

"I'm just worried about you! What do you even really know about him, besides the fact that he murders people for a living? Him being a good lay doesn't count."

 

"Dan…"

 

"Has he ever even said that he loves you?" Dan pressed softly, and Gavin looked away.

 

"Not… Not in so many words," Gavin muttered, and Dan smiled grimly.

 

"He's never said it because he doesn't. He's only in it for the sex, Gav, you have to know that. You see that, right? I know I'm being harsh, but it's the truth." He took Gavin's hands in his own. "You deserve someone who actually cares about you."

 

"And that's you, is it?" Gavin replied, not realising he was echoing Ryan's words in response to the same statement. Dan elected to ignore the fact.

 

"I care about you, B. Ryan's a bloody maniac who threatened to kill you _while_ he was fucking you. I know you said it was a while ago, but that he even said it at all… How long d'you think before he goes postal and actually does it? He's not good enough for you. But I can be."

 

Gavin tugged his hands away with another weary sigh. "You're always like this. We're over, Dan, we have been for a long time. Yeah, we had fun - a lot of fun - but we both know that it would take less than a month before you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from shagging someone else on the side."

 

"They never mean anything," Dan insisted, but Gavin shook his head.

 

"Not to you, maybe."

 

"I won't do it this time. I promise."

 

Gavin just shook his head again. "You say that every time, Dan. You _are_ important to me, but I know you too well. I'm not going to cheat on Ryan with you. I'm not going to cheat on Ryan with anyone."

 

"But he's a murderous psychopath! I know I'm not a saint myself, but he's fucking insane!" Dan protested. "You've _heard_ of some of the stuff he did before you joined the Fake AH crew, right? If you're not with me, fine, but for god's sake, why d'you have to be with someone like _him_?"

 

"Because we both give each other something we need," Gavin replied simply. "And I know you don't want to see it, but he cares about me a lot, and I feel the same way about him. It's not just sex. It hasn't been that for a long time," he finished, tone firm.

 

With a sigh, Dan realised he'd been defeated. He ran his hand through his hair, suddenly looking small. "…Okay. Yeah, all right. Just… just promise me you'll be careful, yeah? I don't want you getting hurt because of him."

 

The corner of Gavin's lips quirked. "I'm always careful." The smile faded quickly. "God, I don't even know if he'll still have me."

 

"I'm sure if you both sat down and talked it out, you'll be fine," Dan replied reluctantly, and Gavin scoffed a little.

 

"Talking isn't exactly one of our strong points."

 

"Then make it one," Dan told him plainly. "If you're doing this, then you need to have that discussion. You need to properly understand each other, or you're just going to fall apart. I mean it, B. I really don't want to see you getting hurt."

 

"I know you don't," Gavin reassured. "I promised already, didn't I?" He smiled briefly, turning back to the mugs of tea, the liquid inside a satisfying enough colour for him to lift the bags out, holding them against the rim to prevent drips on the counter. He silently discarded the bags and handed Dan his tea, taking a measured mouthful from his own. The hot liquid slid over his tongue, splashing up against the roof of his mouth, but he'd taken a small enough sip to not scald himself. He felt it glide down his gullet, settling into him with a comfortable warmth. Dan mimicked the action, and for several minutes they both stared at nothing, the only sound the occasional slurp as they drank.

 

It was quite clear that after a while Gavin had finished his tea and was only pretending to sip. Dan pretended not to notice, and gave him the time he needed to formulate his thoughts.

 

Gavin held his mug in both hands, unconsciously using it as a shield, his face troubled once more as he took in a breath. "Man, you really had him worked up, though," he said suddenly. "What did you even do?"

 

Dan averted his gaze, suddenly uncomfortable with what he'd - albeit falsely - accused Gavin of doing. Briefly, he contemplated lying, which had been his original plan, but it was clear that this wouldn't earn him what he wanted. The truth didn't hold much promise for him, either. "Ah, doesn't really bear repeating," he replied instead, awkward and embarrassed. "I was being a complete knob, let's leave it at that, shall we?"

 

Gavin frowned, but mercifully dropped the issue, setting his mug down on the counter and stepping towards Dan, frown deepening. "That really is looking quite bad," he murmured, gesturing unnecessarily at Dan's nose. "I should probably take you to Caleb."

 

"Who's that?"

 

"He's the crew doctor. He's got his own office separate from the crew base, you don't need to worry about running into Ryan there."

 

Dan seemed sceptical. "You don't know that Ryan hasn't already done something to warrant ending up there himself," he pointed out. "Is it really even that bad? Is it just bruising, or is there actual broken skin on my nose? Still straight and everything?"

 

Gavin peered a little closer. "I guess you're right, it's a just a mess of swelling and bruises."

 

Dan waved his hand dismissively. "I'll be fine, then. It'll fade in a couple weeks, it'll be right as rain."

 

They both stood awkwardly for a few moments before Gavin threw up his arms and offered, "Want to watch some movies, order pizza or something? Can't see us doing anything productive for the rest of the day."

 

Dan gave him a little shrugging kind of nod that said he'd likely have agreed with whatever the other man had suggested. Gavin rolled his eyes and led the way to the living room, flicking the TV on and opening Netflix, ordering pizza over the phone as he scanned the movie options. He found himself falling back on the comforting familiarity of 90's action movies and selected _GoldenEye_ \- he'd seen the film over a dozen times, and he figured it was a good idea to choose something he already knew the plot to, so that if his attention wandered he wouldn't lose the story.

 

This turned out to be a smart decision, because before the pizza even arrived, Gavin found himself so keyed up that he stood abruptly from the couch.

 

"Back in a sec, gonna make a phone call," he muttered, moving towards the small balcony off his living room.

 

"You right?" Dan asked, instantly alert, but Gavin just nodded vaguely.

 

"Yeah, fine. Don't bother pausing it."

 

Dan settled back onto the sofa, but he was clearly uncomfortable. Gavin ignored his torn expression and stepped outside, eyes closing and taking a deep breath of the evening air as he braced his hands on the balcony railing. One of the things he missed most about his apartment had been the balcony - being able to step out into the breeze, or let a cooling draft swirl through the living room. The fancy ducted air-conditioning in Ryan's place was impressive, but it didn't have the same feeling that the real thing did.

 

The sinking sun kissed warmly at his cheeks, and his eyes misted with unexpected tears as it struck him how much had changed since his last sunset. He blinked rapidly to clear them, gasping in a breath as his chest tightened, knuckles going white on the rail. He bowed his head, exhaling slowly as he tried to get himself under control. It took several minutes, but he did it, taking very deliberate breaths to maintain his calm. Once he felt ready, he dug out his phone, pulling up his contact list and scrolling down to Ryan's name.

 

His thumb hovered over the call icon, and he stared at the phone, unable to will himself to move that last quarter-inch and make the call. What could he even say? _I'm sorry_ seemed so woefully inadequate for the level of trust he'd broken. He'd pulled a gun on the man, for Christ's sake. No amount of platitudes squeezed through a phone speaker would be enough. This was something he had to do in person.

 

In any case, Ryan was probably busy blowing off steam, likely by riding his bike around at twice the legal limit. Maybe purposefully goading the cops into a chase. Gavin didn't doubt that Ryan either couldn't or wouldn't answer his call.

 

Sighing, he tucked away the phone and stepped back inside.

 

The pizza had arrived sometime while he was on the balcony, and Dan held out the second box for him, already more than a quarter of the way through his own. Gavin grabbed hold and flopped onto the couch, eyes returning to the screen in time to see Pierce Brosnan shot with a tranquiliser.

 

He ate his pizza without tasting it, only really feeling the hot, greasy texture of it sliding down his gullet. He barely managed to eat half before he lost all appetite, putting the box on the floor.

 

Once the credits started to roll, Gavin immediately exited to the movie selection menu and chose another movie. Dan made no comment on the fact he wasn't being consulted on the film choices, silently accepting whatever played on the screen.

 

The pattern repeated, the clock ticking over into the next day, and Gavin's eyelids began to droop.

 

"Maybe time to go to bed? We'll have to work longer tomorrow to make up for the time we missed today," Dan prompted gently as the credits rolled once more. Gavin nodded, tired enough to be compliant.

 

"Fair enough. Lemme make the sofa bed for you." He ushered Dan away from the couch, flicking the lever on the side that made it fold out. He disappeared briefly down the hall, then returned with an armful of bedding. He unloaded a blanket and pillow into Dan's arms, then tucked a wrinkled fitted sheet around the corners of the sofa bed.

 

A wide yawn cracked at his jaw as Dan clambered on, arranging blanket and pillow to his liking, kicking off his pants and letting them fall on the floor.

 

"Night, Dan. See you in the morning."

 

There was a brief moment of struggle in Dan's expression, and Gavin knew that Dan was fighting the urge to coyly invite him to the sofa bed, rather than letting him retreat to his own room. Instead, he replied, "Night. See you then." He kept his response short, it seemed, to prevent himself from blurting anything else out.

 

Ignoring the slight tension, and not waiting for Dan to shed the rest of his clothes, Gavin padded off to his room, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. He stripped down and tossed his jeans, shirt, socks and underwear onto the egg-shaped reading chair in the corner of his room. An uncomfortable feeling crawled along his insides as he realised he'd have to buy some new outfits come morning. All of his clothes were at Ryan's flat.

 

In fact, almost all of his things were at Ryan's flat.

 

Maybe it was time to admit that they _had_ moved in together. Maybe it was already too late to do so.

 

He wondered if Ryan might just throw all his stuff out in a fit of anger. 

 

It felt strange, climbing into his own bed. Not the nakedness, because he often slept in the nude, but for how long it had been since he'd actually slept in his own bed. How these days, he considered 'his' bed to be the one he shared with Ryan.

 

The thought made him roll over unhappily, and it took several hours before he finally sank into the oblivion of sleep.

 

~* * *~

 

Dan had a habit of sleeping commando no matter where he was, and, when he woke the next morning, he felt entirely too indolent to see the point in getting dressed before he showered. Instead, naked but for the thin blanket he tied lazily around his waist, he pulled a shake 'n' bake pancake mix from Gavin's cupboard that was still in date, flipping the stove on as he headed to the sink to fill the bottle with water. He dug around in Gavin's drawers with one hand as the other shook the bottle vigorously, letting out a quiet noise of triumph as he unearthed a non-stick pan. He plonked it down on the stove and let it heat up before grabbing some butter from the fridge, scooping out a small portion and dropping it into the pan. It melted and sizzled and Dan poured some of the pancake batter on top of it. He rocked the pan from side to side to spread the batter evenly, flipping it once it was golden brown.

 

Meanwhile, Ryan was making his way to Gavin's apartment, sure that that was where the younger man had gone for the night. Now that he'd slept on it, had a chance to calm down, he realised how badly he needed to explain his version of events, because Dan had no doubt fed Gavin a twisted story that cast the older man as the villain. His lip curled in distaste at the thought of the dark-haired Brit, but he pushed the negative emotions into the back of his mind as he brought his bike to a stop in the garage of Gavin's building. It was more important that Gavin knew that Ryan truly did care for him, that he wasn't just using the younger man for his body.

 

And maybe he wanted to yell at Gavin a bit for jamming a pistol into his gut. Just a little.

 

Up in the apartment, Gavin's nose twitched in his sleep, the smell of cooking pancakes slowly waking him. Like Dan, Gavin had slept with no clothes on. He wrapped his bed sheet loosely around himself as he dragged himself out of bed, padding into the kitchen. He held his sheet in place with one hand, the other rubbing at his eyes. "Mm, smells good," he praised sleepily.

 

Dan grinned sheepishly back at him. "I wanted to apologise for yesterday. Nothing says 'I'm sorry for being a complete twat' like pancakes."

 

"If you could fetch the honey from the cupboard too, then apology accepted."

 

Dan laughed, flipping over the pancake he was cooking and leaning back to avoid getting any splashes of hot butter on his bare skin. They had known each other for so long that Gavin was entirely unfazed by the other man's state of undress.

 

He smiled fondly, shuffling closer to inhale the heavenly scent of the pancakes.

 

Unfortunately, Ryan chose that exact moment to walk into the apartment, letting himself in with a key Gavin had given him several months back. Any conciliatory words he'd prepared died on his lips at the sight of the two half-naked Brits, only the bedding draped around their waists protecting their modesty.

 

"Ryan, what're you doing here?" Gavin asked, bewildered, and he clutched his sheet tighter to himself.

 

While a valid question, it was entirely the wrong thing to say.

 

"Funny," Ryan replied tightly. "I was just wondering the same thing." Without another word, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. Gavin stared at the door for a few shocked seconds before launching into action. He raced across the room and threw the door open, placing his trust in the bed sheet to keep him from flashing any potential passers-by in the hallway. He pelted down the hall, trying to catch Ryan at the elevator, but it had already started to go down. He veered off towards the stairs instead, taking them three at a time. When he reached the lobby, he was out of breath, panting, but could already hear Ryan's bike tearing off noisily down the street. Even if he ran as fast as he could to the building's garage to get in his car, he was too late to catch the older man now. In any case, he'd left his keys back up in his apartment.

 

"…Dammit," he wheezed, then trudged dejectedly to the elevator, riding it back up. He went inside without a word, and Dan silently handed him a plate of pancakes that ended up tasting like ash in his mouth.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No sex in this chapter again. No other warnings either, really.
> 
> Just feels.
> 
> Lots and lots of feels.

_"Ryan, please call me back. We didn't… Nothing happened, I promise. I know how shit it sounds, but it really isn't what it looks like."_

 

_"Ryan, it's me again. Please, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have gotten that gun out yesterday, but I didn't know what else to do. Please call me."_

 

_"I know you're listening to these messages. Please. I want to talk to you, I want to explain. Call me back so we can organise somewhere to go sit down and talk about it, I don't want to do this over the phone."_

 

_"Stop screening my calls, Ryan. I'm gonna keep leaving messages until you answer."_

_"Please answer me, Ryan. I'm sorry. I really can explain."_

 

_"Ryan, please, I… I just… Please."_

 

Ryan glared down at his phone as it began to ring again. Frustrated, he switched it off and stuffed it into his pocket, only to fish it out and turn it back on a few minutes later. Sure enough, there was another message from Gavin.

 

Just to torture himself a little more, Ryan let it play.

 

Gavin's unsteady breath echoed tinnily from the speakers. _"For god's sake, Ryan, please. Don't do this to me, just let me explain. In person. I just want… this whole bloody mess is just a big misunderstanding, you have to believe me. Don't…"_ His voice cracked and his breath hitched, and Ryan's fingers ached to return the call. He suppressed the temptation. _"…God, Ryan, please don't let it be like this. I'm so sorry. I…"_ Gavin's voice trailed off into silence, and the voicemail ended several seconds later.

 

Ryan waited for a few minutes, but the flurry of calls seemed to have abated. His phone stayed quiet, Gavin having clearly run out of words.

 

He had half a mind to smash the thing on the ground. Shaking his head angrily, he shoved his phone into his pocket again, and left it there this time.

 

There was still an hour or so left before he needed to be at the base, but he decided to leave early. If he was lucky, Geoff would have something violent for him to do.

 

He took the elevator down from his apartment to the basement, and was burning rubber within minutes.

 

The ride left him with little else to think except the events of the past twenty four hours, and his anger started to boil over.

 

Gavin's voice played through in his mind. _I didn't know what else to do, don't do this to me, don't let it be like this._ He was laying the blame with Ryan, when Gavin was the one that had pulled a gun out rather than letting Ryan tell his side of the story. He'd just lapped up Dan's fiction of Ryan snapping and beating him up for no reason, rather than believing that there might be a more rational explanation for his actions. How hypocritical it was of Gavin, to expect Ryan to placidly listen to his version of events when he hadn't even considered offering Ryan the same courtesy. 

 

What made him even angrier was that so much of him wanted to forgive Gavin, no matter what had actually happened. Such a capacity for leniency was pretty much an unknown for him. He was not a particularly selfless person in general, and that he would allow such a blind spot for Gavin was more than a little concerning.

 

By the time Ryan reached the crew base, fury was rolling off him with almost palpable force. He saw Geoff visibly blanch at the sight of him.

 

"Give me something to do," Ryan all but growled. Geoff went very still, eyes soft and concerned - not for himself, but for Ryan.

 

"…Ryan, there something you want to tell me?"

 

"Dan and I had a _disagreement_."

 

Geoff went another shade paler. "Is he…"

 

"Broken nose and a sore shoulder at worst," Ryan replied shortly. "He'll live." _More's the pity_ , he added silently.

 

Geoff relaxed, if only a little. He sighed. "I thought you said you were getting a handle on this," he said, a hint of steel creeping into his voice.

 

"I am. He started it."

 

Geoff's tone hardened further. "And am I going to have to finish it?"

 

"Not if Dan keeps his hands off what doesn't belong to him," Ryan bit out. Geoff went motionless again.

 

"This is about Gavin, isn't it?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gavin's a fucking person, he doesn't _belong_ to you."

 

"Doesn't belong to Dan either," Ryan muttered rebelliously. Some of the despair he was trying to keep buried under his anger clawed its way to the surface. "Geoff, I just need something to clear my head, blow off some steam."

 

The older man sighed again. "All right, I do have something for you. I was going to wait until after the heist to give you this job, but might as well get it done now." He waved wearily for Ryan to follow him to his office, where he rifled through the stack of papers on his desk before unearthing a manila folder. He held it out. "You know I don't agree with how you're reacting to situations like this."

 

Ryan practically snatched the folder from Geoff's hand. "I just need the distraction right now. Something mundane isn't gonna cut it."

 

"I do not want this to be a reoccurring thing, Ryan," he said firmly, pinning the hit man with his gaze. "I mean it. If this becomes a problem again, if we have to have the discussion we had last time again, then that's it. You're done."

 

Ryan's hand clenched around the folder, keeping his temper in check. This wasn't Geoff's fault. "I know."

 

~* * *~

 

"Geoff! Have you seen Ryan at all today?"

 

Geoff looked up from his desk to Gavin, who had burst into his office unannounced, chest heaving and a slight glint of panic in his eyes.

 

"You missed him by about half an hour," he replied calmly, propping his elbows up on the desk and lacing his fingers together. "Mind telling me what's going on? Because he seems to be under the impression that Dan's been trying to fuck you." His face went slack. "Wait, Dan didn't _actually_ fuck you, did he?"

 

Gavin was quick to wave away his concerns. "No, god no, Geoff, I wouldn't cheat on Ryan." He hugged his arms around himself. "But I'm pretty sure he thinks I did. He came around this morning, and Dan was making pancakes and we both had nothing but blankets on and I think he's assumed the worst."

 

The older man's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "Wow, I'm surprised all he did was break Dan's nose. Lucky that you've mellowed him out so much, he probably would have up and killed Dan if this'd happened even six months ago."

 

Gavin's shoulders hunched. "I know. I want to make it right, though. I want to talk to him in person, not over the phone. He hasn't been answering my calls, anyway. You have any idea whenabouts he'll be back?"

 

Geoff's eyes dropped and he shifted, slightly uncomfortable. "I sent him out on a hit so he could blow off some steam. He's probably going to be out for a while."

 

The Brit cursed quietly under his breath. "Well, guess I'll have to wait, then," he replied defeatedly. "Thanks anyway, Geoff."

 

His shoulders were slumped as he trudged back to his computer lab, knocking on the door. "Dan, it's me, let me in."

 

A few seconds passed, then the lock unlatched. They'd both agreed when heading to work that day that it would be safest for Dan to keep the computer lab door locked at all times. It was something of a relief to know that it wouldn't be an issue for at least a few hours.

 

"He here?"

 

Gavin shook his head. "Out on a hit. He'll be a couple hours, if not most of the day. C'mon, we've got work to do."

 

~* * *~

 

Geoff texted Gavin when Ryan returned to the base, and Gavin immediately left the computer lab, Dan locking the door behind him. He did a quick loop of the building, but couldn't find Ryan anywhere, and everyone he talked to didn't have a clue either. With his options run dry, he slunk back into the lab, Dan wordlessly letting him back in.

 

He tried to focus on his work, but his eyes kept drifting to the collection of new bullet holes in the wall above his monitors, inordinately glad that they were above them rather than through them. His attention slipped away from him again and again, and he used whatever excuse he could - he wanted to go to the bathroom, he wanted something to drink, to eat, he wanted to give Geoff a status update - to allow him to do another sweep of the building.

 

He finally ran into Ryan in a hallway near the armoury around seven, and despite having spent every spare moment of his afternoon searching for the older man, he didn't feel ready for this conversation.

 

"Ryan, I'm so sorry," he began softly, but the blond waved him off with a dismissive gesture, making Gavin's heart sink.

 

"Whatever. Get out of my way, I don't care," he growled, and Gavin frowned, spine straightening despite how the callous words made him want to curl into a ball. Ryan made to push past him and Gavin surprised them both by shoving him back, hand firm on Ryan's chest. 

 

"Well, obviously you do, if you're acting like this. I know you got my messages, can we please just talk-"

 

"I think the time for talking's well and truly over," Ryan snapped, but despite how harsh he was acting, he still felt his chest clench at the way Gavin flinched, arm retracting. He reminded himself that the Brit had _pulled a fucking gun on him_ , and he wanted his words to inflict as much pain as possible. He wanted Gavin to understand what he had _done_ , the trust he had broken. There was a reason that Ryan had walls, and Gavin had just casually bulldozered through all of them, like they meant nothing. It had taken Ryan so many years to get past what he had been, to see himself as someone worthy of affection, someone deserving of a kind touch, someone more than just a soulless killer, and for Gavin to do _this_ to him…

 

He wanted the younger man to _hurt_. "Why don't you go have a nice little chat with your _new_ boyfriend instead?" he spat, focusing on his anger, hardening it into a kernel of rage so that he didn't have to think about how much this whole situation was making his heart ache. "I won't interrupt this time, you two can do whatever the fuck you want."

 

Gavin flinched again, features pained. Satisfaction and regret chased each other through Ryan's head like wild dogs. "It's not like that," the Brit protested weakly. "I wouldn't do that."

 

"Wouldn't you?" Ryan sounded sceptical, scathing, hating the way that Gavin's pitiful expression was making his gut turn sour. _He's made his choice, make him suffer for it,_ his mind hissed, and his expression fixed itself into a snarl. He ignored the lump in his throat. "You both looked pretty fucking cosy when he was making goddamn pancakes for you this morning, care to explain that?"

 

"He was just trying to apologise to me for being a twat about you!"

 

Ryan snorted disbelievingly. "By making you a Morning After breakfast, sure." God, even sharing the same space as Gavin was threatening to make him start to choke up. This was one of the many reasons Ryan didn't do relationships. He didn't have the emotional capacity to deal with this kind of thing without making a giant mess and hurting the person he was with. A slight sense of hysteria rose within him as he realised just how deep a hole he could dig here, just how badly he could damage their relationship, if there was even anything left to salvage at this point. He had to push Gavin away before he did something truly destructive. He had to go for a low blow. "You know, I'm really regretting not pulling the trigger when I had a gun to his neck. The world could do with one less person like him."

 

It didn't have the intended effect.

 

Rather than declaring Ryan entirely unreasonable and storming out, Gavin suddenly looked drained, too exhausted to even feel upset anymore. "What's even your problem with him, Ryan?" He sighed tiredly, rubbing at his face. "I know you're used to getting your own way, but you're being a bit dramatic. You can't go around threatening to kill someone like that when they're just being an annoying bellend."

 

"What's _my_ problem?" Ryan practically spluttered, anger partially giving way to shock that Gavin didn't seem to comprehend Ryan's deep-seated loathing. "Gavin, you _know_ that I'm not used to being in an actual committed relationship, and then you decide to go and bring one of your old fuckbuddies over from the UK without so much as talking to me about it first? What the fuck's _your_ problem?"

 

Gavin gaped at him, entirely at a loss for words.

 

Why _hadn't_ it occurred to him to at least let Ryan _know_ how things stood between him and Dan? After all, they had been together once, even if Gavin himself had broken it off years ago, before he'd even joined the FAHC. The fact that they had history was abundantly clear, he knew. How had he so thoughtlessly assumed that Ryan would simply be okay with it, when Gavin of all people should have understood the kind of trust issues something like that could bring up?

 

No, instead he'd relished in Ryan's possessive, dominant behaviour, how _wanted_ it made him feel. How the way Dan and Ryan were competing over him made him feel special, how he'd never truly laid down the facts for Ryan, so that the older man wouldn't actually believe there was a possibility that their relationship was being threatened. He'd never even considered the idea that his behaviour might make Ryan feel insecure.

 

Instead, he'd egged the two of them on for the single selfish reason of getting Ryan riled up for rough sex.

 

Ryan's voice floated through his head, playing back from several months before. _There's plenty of things in this world for me to be mad at, and I don't want one of them to be you. That's not healthy._

 

And Gavin realised now that Ryan had been just as mad at _him_ as Dan, even before Gavin had pulled the gun on him - mad that he'd played along with Dan's seductions, mad that he hadn't reiterated the fact that he and Ryan were in a monogamous relationship. Mad that he'd treated Ryan's feelings about the situation like an afterthought.

 

And god, had pulling out that gun been a mistake too.  

 

Some more of the anger in Ryan's face faded and the blond muttered, almost sulkily, "You didn't hear what he said."

 

Gavin gaped at him for a while longer before collecting himself. But while he could easily apologise for how things had looked between him and Dan that morning, and for holding Ryan at gunpoint, he was never one to readily admit that he was in the wrong, and he sounded almost exasperated when he asked, "What? What could possibly be _so bad_ that you had to break his nose and threaten him at gunpoint for it?"

 

Ryan felt himself teetering from a dangerous precipice, and without warning he tumbled off. Fingers trembling, he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding Gavin's eyes. "He said that I wasn't good enough for you, that you deserve better. I don't doubt he's told you the same." He let out a huff of humourless laughter. "Maybe part of me thinks he's right, and that's why I got so angry about it. But then he said that you two had been sleeping together all those times you went over to the UK to help him out, and… I just lost it."

 

"…Oh," was the only thing Gavin could think to say.

 

"It's not true, is it?"

 

The forlorn pitifulness in Ryan's words, the way his usually ironclad exterior seemed to crumble away, leaving him raw and open, almost made Gavin's heart break. The older man seemed so irreconcilably fragile in that moment, like any wrong move from Gavin would make him shatter like glass. It terrified Gavin to hold that kind of emotional power over someone.

 

"Of course it's not true! I might've let Dan act the way he did to rile you up, but I never would've actually done anything with him. I would never do something like that to you." He offered a wonky but sincere smile, stepping closer and laying a hand on Ryan's arm, like his touch alone could keep the older man from falling to pieces.

 

"Do you love me?" Ryan asked suddenly.

 

Gavin was dumbstruck by the unexpected question and took an involuntary step back. "What?"

 

The older man stepped in even closer, a weird, wild intensity in his eyes - like he was afraid of either answer Gavin could give him. "Do you love me?"

 

"I-I don't know, I…" Gavin stammered, still reeling. He was used to Ryan's standard emotional set of sarcastic, affectionately irritated or angry. Even after all this time, he was still thrown for a loop when the older man was unguarded like this. "Why? Do you love me?" he asked stupidly.

 

Ryan looked down, his jaw clenched and his head turned to the side, too nervous to meet Gavin's eyes.

 

Then, very minutely, he nodded.

 

Gavin's heart swelled suddenly, and he wondered how he hadn't been able to give Ryan a definite answer right away. He reached up, cupping the older man's jaw and smiling.

 

"Good, then. Because I love you too."

 

Ryan's eyes flew to his, daring to be hopeful, and he grabbed Gavin's face in both hands and crushed their lips together in a passionate kiss. Gavin responded like he'd drown without Ryan's mouth against his, and they became lost in each other until they had to come up to breathe, dizzy from the lack of air. "I love you," Ryan whispered against Gavin's lips, words trembling like they were afraid of leaving him. Gavin let out a quiet laugh, kissing Ryan again before pulling back and grinning up at him with twinkling eyes. A matching smile stretched itself across Ryan's face, and he leaned their foreheads together, cradling the back of the younger man's neck.

 

Gavin rocked his hips forward slightly, and Ryan groaned.

 

"You're ruining the moment," he breathed, and Gavin grinned impishly at him, thrusting again and sliding his hand over Ryan's shoulder, pulling him closer.

 

"You being all sincere like that gets me hot, Ryan," Gavin whispered, and the older man laughed despite himself.

 

"That's such a lie. And also doesn't really make sense."

 

"I'll make sense of you," Gavin threatened teasingly, still grinning, and Ryan laughed again.

 

"Neither did that," he pointed out as Gavin's hand slipped to his waist, pulling their hips flush.

 

"How about you just fuck me senseless, then?" Gavin offered, breath hitching as Ryan's lips latched onto his neck.

 

"Should be easy," Ryan hummed against his throat, "seeing how you never seem to have a lot of sense anyway."

 

Gavin moaned as they pressed chest to chest, one leg hooking behind Ryan's ankle. The older man grabbed roughly at his thigh, fingertips digging in, almost gripping strong enough to leave bruises through the denim.

 

They both froze as something thumped loudly against the wall. "What have I told you two about having sex near anything I own?" Geoff hollered at them.

 

Cautiously, they disentangled from each other and adjusted themselves, then made their way to the door, Ryan in the lead. He cracked it open and peeked into the next room. Geoff stared at him, unimpressed, with Jack, Ray and Michael by his side. Awkwardly, Ryan stepped fully into the room, Gavin following and staying in his shadow for protection. "So, uh… how much of that did you hear?" he asked, even though the answer was obviously too much.

 

"That wall's pretty fucking thin, Ryan," Geoff replied eventually, arms folded. Ryan rubbed at the back of his neck.

 

"Yeah… sorry. But I guess… hey, at least I can finally admit that Gavin and I are seeing each other?"

 

Ray snorted. "Yeah, like we didn't already know that for the past year," he muttered, and Michael turned his shocked gaze on the Puerto Rican.

 

"No we didn't know that! A fucking _year_?"

 

Ryan was just as surprised. "You've known the whole time?"

 

"Dude. You spent fucking _hours_ that day in the armoury cleaning guns you'd already cleaned twice, then you grab that black pistol out from nowhere and start filing off the sight as soon as Gavin shows up, then you leave right after he does?" He snorted again. "Please. Like you were using that gun to kill stuff. I know what's up."

 

Geoff looked over at Ray with a deadpan expression. "I did not need to know that."

 

"What the fuck Gavin!" Michael shouted, arms waving comically. "You're my boi, you're supposed to tell me this shit! How the fuck did you keep this quiet, you're the loudest motherfucker I know!"

 

"You're telling me," Ryan said before he could stop himself, and he couldn't help laughing when the others all groaned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, the emotionally constipated babies finally stopped being morons to one another
> 
> I'm so proud


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap it’s been almost a month since I posted anything I’m so sorry aaaaahh
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Content warnings for smut with all the usual accompaniments, as well as some more feelings thrown into the mix.
> 
> Enjoy!

Gavin strode quickly back to the computer lab to collect his things, eager to get home with Ryan and make up for his behaviour.

 

It didn't occur to him until his hand rattled on the locked handle that Dan was still inside. He gritted his teeth, wishing now he'd given himself some time to steel himself for the conversation that was about to happen. He knocked on the door.

 

"Dan, it's me."

 

A few seconds later, Dan opened the door, offering Gavin a small smile. It faded when he saw the expression on Gavin's face.

 

"Had a chat with Ryan," Gavin announced, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. Dan swallowed thickly.

 

"Yeah? What about?"

 

"He told me the real reason the two of you were fighting the other day."

 

Dan cringed a little, knowing this had been coming. "Listen, B," he began, but the other man stopped him.

 

"Dan, don't." Gavin's face was closed off, his voice carefully controlled. "I can get over you continually sleeping around when we were together. I get that that's just how a relationship with you works, and that's why we _didn't_ work out in the end. Even though it makes it _so hard_ for me now to trust people enough to actually let them in, I can forgive that. But lying and deceiving me like that, trying to take me away from a relationship where I'm genuinely happy? I don't care how noble your intentions were, that was an awful way for you to go about things." He folded his arms. "Let me tell you, Dan, I can easily maintain a professional, working relationship with you, but it's going to take a damn lot of effort on your part if you want us to be friends again."

 

The dark-haired Brit stared at him for several seconds. "I…" he started to protest, but his shoulders slumped almost immediately. "Yeah, okay. That's fair enough." He sighed. "I shouldn't have done that to you, especially not with how I've treated you before. I'm sorry."

 

Gavin nodded, arms still folded. "You said sorry every time I caught you out on sleeping with someone else when we were dating," he pointed out. "You're going to have to forgive me if I ask for more than an apology."

 

Dan seemed to shrink in on himself a little more. "…Yeah, okay." He stared carefully at a point somewhere next to Gavin's elbow. "I suppose I better keep avoiding Ryan if I want to keep all my arms and legs attached?" he asked, partially going for humour, but also with a rather large degree of genuine concern.

 

"Honestly? It wouldn't break my heart right now if he decided to rough you up a little more, but I don't think he will, unless you give him a new reason to."

 

Considering how much his nose still ached with every breath - not to mention the spectacular spectrum of colour that his bruising covered - Dan was more than a little relieved to hear it. "Well, I'm going to let you finish up in peace and head off, then. I'll see you tomorrow."

 

"See you," Gavin agreed with a curt nod, unsmiling.

 

The frosty response made Dan give up on anything else that he wanted to say, and with a near-inaudible sigh he left, and despite his better judgement he decided to go hunt down Ryan.

 

After several minutes of fruitless searching, he ran into Michael near the armoury.

 

"Hey, Michael, do you happen to know where Ryan might be?"

 

"Why're you asking?" Michael replied coolly, his body language borderline hostile. The two of them had struck up a good comradery when Michael had come over to England with Gavin, and it hurt Dan now to see that his actions had a wider impact than just those immediately involved. "If you're looking for a fight, save yourself the trouble. He'll kick your ass."

 

"Don't I know it," Dan replied with a crooked smile, gesturing self-depreciatingly at his nose. "I don't want a repeat performance, trust me. I just want to talk."

 

Michael jerked his head down the hall. "Saw him headed to the garage. Don't blame me if he punches you again."

 

Dan thanked him and moved off at a light jog. He caught Ryan just as he was entering the garage, getting ready to leave for the day.

 

"Hey, Ryan, wait a second," he called out, keeping himself out of limb-tearing range despite Gavin's reassurances.

 

Ryan set his helmet back down on his bike seat and crossed his arms. "I'm waiting."

 

The Brit opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Belatedly, he wished he had prepared what he was going to say ahead of time. He stared hard at the floor. Ryan stared hard at him.

 

"…Guess you've won, then," Dan finally muttered after several moments of intensely uncomfortable silence.

 

Ryan gave a little start, having half expected the other man to chicken out on whatever he'd come here to say and leave. He tried to keep the acerbity from his tone as he replied, "It was never a _competition_."

 

A peculiar look flitted across Dan's face. "It really wasn't, was it?" he murmured, then hugged his arms around himself, feet shuffling slightly and eyes downcast. "You better take good care of him," he said, uncharacteristically awkward. It was strange to see the man be anything but confident. "You're not allowed to hurt him."

 

Ryan opened his mouth, but Dan cut him off. "And I don't just mean physically, although I will fly back here and mess you up if you do that either. Look… he hates to ever have to admit it, but he's terrified of trusting people, letting them in. Part of that's my fault as well. I'm just asking… please, whatever happens, just be gentle about it."

 

"I'm not breaking up with him," Ryan replied, and Dan made a placating gesture.

 

"I didn't mean that," the Brit assured him. "I meant that if he needs you, then you damn well better be there for him."

 

"If I can, I will," Ryan promised, and Dan nodded tersely.

 

"Good." The word was short, soft, and for the first time, Ryan felt a shred of pity for the younger man.

 

"I get this was hard for you to do," he offered. "Thanks."

 

Dan's shoulders hunched uncomfortably. "Yeah, well, you can give him something I can't, right?" He snorted suddenly. "God, how messed up is it that _you're_ more stable for him than me?" He seemed to realise what he'd just said and glanced over at Ryan apologetically. "Sorry."

 

The blond just raised an eyebrow slightly, surprising himself with the fact that he didn't feel offended.

 

"Everything all right in here?" Gavin's voice piped up from the doorway, eyes flicking between the two taller men.

 

"Fine," Dan replied, gaze downcast. "I was just leaving." So saying, he began to awkwardly amble towards the door.

 

"Ready to go?" Gavin asked softly.

 

Ryan smiled at him, pulling him in close and swooping down for a kiss. "When you are," he murmured against the Brit's lips.

 

Gavin smiled in reply. "Ready to go, then."

 

They disengaged, Ryan swinging his leg over his bike and Gavin sliding into place behind him. Their helmets went on, hiding their matching grins as Ryan revved the engine and tore out of the garage, heading home.

 

~* * *~

 

As they had the night Gavin had returned from the UK, he and Ryan were all over one another before they even hit the elevator, Gavin gripping at Ryan's arms as the older man's mouth moved along his neck.

 

Unlike last time, the elevator slowed before it reached their floor. Unwillingly, they separated just as the door opened and a young woman hopped in, one manicured finger pressing a button for a higher level. Gavin and Ryan were standing far too close for the state of affairs between them to be anything but obvious, and her cheeks were slightly touched with pink as she offered them a smile, undoubtedly knowing she had interrupted them. To be fair, though, the tight cling of her dress, the loose waves of her hair and the sultriness of her makeup made it clear that whoever's room she was heading to, she had a similar goal to them.

 

The elevator slowed to a stop a few levels from the top, and she got off with another slightly awkward smile and a ripple of her fingers. She couldn't help but glance back as the doors began to close, and the rapidly disappearing view didn't disappoint - Ryan, crowding Gavin into the corner, broad shoulders towering over a slender form, the younger man's bottom lip between his teeth, hands gripping at his ass.

 

Finally, the elevator reached the top and they disembarked, lips still fused as Ryan dug in his pocket for his keys.

 

Their shirts vanished somewhere in the living room, Ryan's belt hitting the floor of the hall leading to the bedroom. Ryan spun them just as they reached the bed, sitting with his legs open, and Gavin pressed up against him, clambering onto his lap. The Brit gyrated against him, mouth hot and wet as he kissed sloppily. Ryan's hands were all over his waist, his back, pressing into every dip and curve.

 

Very quickly, they reached a point where pants were entirely surplus to requirements, and Ryan scooted back to give them both the room to take off their jeans. Gavin crawled after him, hips shimmying as he worked the tight denim off of his legs and over the end of the bed. Ryan's pants landed on top a few seconds later, along with his underwear. Gavin's own boxers remained on for the time being, the cotton slightly damp with precome as he ground down against the blond. He cradled Ryan's jaw with one hand, holding the older man's face against his as Ryan's arms curled around his waist, his back.

 

"I'm sorry," Gavin muttered into his cheek, lips pressed onto his skin.

 

"I know," Ryan rumbled in response. "Me too."

 

"Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how good you are for me," Gavin whispered, mouth trailing lingering kisses along Ryan's jawline. Ryan's throat bobbed at his sultry tone. "Let me make you feel as good as you make me feel."

 

"Be my guest," he murmured, struggling to keep his words casual. His hands dropped away of their own accord, resting by his sides.

 

Gavin's grin was a near-evil thing, full of wicked promises. He kissed and caressed his way slowly down Ryan's torso, fingers and lips and tongue tracing muscles and scars, cataloguing every inch of the older man's skin. It was like Gavin wanted to commit to memory every exact, minute detail of Ryan's being, to forever capture the feeling of Ryan under his fingertips.

 

Such an intense level of scrutiny was both terrifying and exhilarating. To know that Gavin could see all of him, intimately, and find nothing wanting, was indescribable. Ryan arched into his touch, hands fisting in the covers as Gavin moved lower and lower.

 

His chin bumped against the tip of Ryan's straining cock and he feigned surprise. "Is that for me?" he asked, innocent as a virgin, then ruined the effect with a conniving smile.

 

Ryan let out a breathless laugh. "Only if you know what you're doing with it."

 

"Oh, I think I might have a few good ideas," he murmured, the heat of his words brushing over sensitive skin. Ryan's breath hitched and Gavin closed the distance, lips wrapping around the tip of Ryan's cock, tongue flickering to dip into the slit. He slowly pulled away, maintaining contact for as long as possible, exaggerating the pout of his lips.

 

His tongue laved generously along the shaft, slicking the skin as he moved. He licked up and down the sides, one hand coming in to languidly pump along the length of it as he returned to suckling at the tip. His fingers moved with the perfect amount of pressure as his mouth began to slowly sink down, making Ryan curse and press his head back into the pillow.

 

Ryan could feel the smirk on Gavin's lips as the younger man swallowed him down to the root, making him moan wildly, unable to keep himself from burying one hand in Gavin's messy locks. Gavin swallowed repeatedly around his length and Ryan cursed again, already close to wrecked as the Brit flashed green eyes up at him from under his lashes.

 

Gavin trailed the fingers of his right hand through the mixture of precome and saliva coating Ryan's cock, making sure to cover his middle and index finger completely. Once satisfied that his fingers were slicked enough, he reached behind himself, sinking his forefinger into his hole as he used his left arm for stability, still sucking Ryan's cock the entire time. He moaned and hummed as he worked, setting Ryan off into another burst of swear words as he bucked up into the younger man's mouth, hands tight in Gavin's hair. When the brunet began to pull away, though, Ryan let him go, and Gavin brought his left hand up to caress the length that wasn't still in his mouth, forearm resting against Ryan's hip for balance.

 

He pulled off, panting, as he slid a second finger into himself, spine dipping to give him the best possible access. Ryan practically whimpered at the sight of Gavin like this - lips swollen and red, chest heaving, fingers buried in his hole as he opened himself up for Ryan.

 

"So gorgeous like this," he rasped, stroking his hand through Gavin's hair. The Brit smiled, leaning into the touch, then he surged forward, fingers sliding out of himself and wiping clean on the top sheet. His mouth descended on Ryan's, and Ryan could taste himself on Gavin's tongue, the Brit's own flavour pushing through as the kiss lengthened. Ryan's fingers tightened in Gavin's hair once more and the younger man mewled at the sensation, scalp tingling. He reached back, fingers searching for Ryan's cock, guiding it to sit up against his entrance. "Sure you're prepped enough?" Ryan murmured, and Gavin chuckled, sending a shiver of arousal down Ryan's spine.

 

"I've taken you with less before," he pointed out, gasping as he sat back and forced the head of Ryan's cock inside him. "Always love how much you make me stretch," he whispered breathily, panting mouth hovering several inches above Ryan's, hands pressing firmly on the older man's shoulders to keep him from closing the distance.

 

Achingly slowly, he sank down, puffing out soft moans that brushed hotly against Ryan's cheeks. Once he was finally seated all the way down on Ryan's cock, he kissed hungrily at the older man's mouth, his breath coming out as gasps and whines as his body adjusted. Slowly, he began to grind in small, steady circles, short nails digging into Ryan's shoulders as his fingers curled. Ryan groaned softly, hands rising to grip at Gavin's thighs, supporting the younger man as he began to lift himself up, sliding halfway off Ryan's cock before sinking back down with a wanton moan. His mouth fell open as he moved, neck bared in an elegant column, eyes closed, looking like the poster image of sin. Ryan groaned again at the sight, hands sliding down to Gavin's knees as the Brit found his rhythm, rapidly working his way up to bouncing on Ryan's cock.

 

After a few minutes, however, he slowed, sitting himself down as he grinned at Ryan. "You gonna stay there?" he challenged, and Ryan raised an eyebrow.

 

"Well, I was more than happy with the way things were going, so yes."

 

Gavin lifted off him with a groan. "Well, stay there then," he ordered, tone humorous as he padded over the bedside table, purposefully sticking his ass out as he rummaged inside for the lube. He popped the cap and sent a cheeky glance at Ryan over his shoulder. The older man was watching him intently, like a predatory beast, and Gavin bit his lip as he poured a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. As much as he loved Ryan taking him with minimal prep, sometimes Gavin would misjudge how much he needed and leave himself feeling just a little too raw by the end of it. He'd caught himself this time, before things tipped too far from pleasure into actual pain.

 

Now, he braced his non-lubed hand against the wall, planting his feet wide apart and arching his back so that his cheeks spread themselves, his loose and reddened rim on display. With an exaggerated groan, he reached back and slipped two of his slicked fingers inside himself, coating his hole as they moved. He dared another glance over his shoulder, and was gratified to see Ryan with his hands twisted up in the top sheet, head forced back against the pillow as he waited impatiently for Gavin to finish teasing him.

 

"Get over here, Gavin," he growled once he'd had enough of waiting, making the younger man laugh.

 

"When you're being so polite, how can I refuse?" Gavin mocked, gait rolling and sultry as he strode back over to the bed. He clambered on, but this time he sat with his back facing Ryan, reaching down between his legs to guide the blond's cock into him. The slide was far easier now, and he sank down in a single, fluid motion, languidly stroking his own cock as he settled down. He rolled his hips slowly, hand suddenly reaching down to where Ryan entered him and fondling the older man's balls, earning him a quiet moan of his name. Smirking, Gavin quickly built back up to the rhythm he had found earlier, hands gripping Ryan's thighs just above the knee as he fucked himself.

 

Ecstatic moans toppled from his lips and his pace grew erratic, releasing his load with a loud cry a few seconds later. He shuddered and seated himself fully on Ryan's cock, groaning and too limp-limbed to raise himself up again.

 

Ryan lunged upwards in an explosion of movement, gathering Gavin against him and pitching him forward so that suddenly the younger man was pinned beneath him. A short gasp punched out of Gavin's mouth at the unexpectedness of it, morphing into a whine as Ryan pounded into him, chasing his own completion. Overstimulation roared through Gavin's body, nearly driving him out of his mind with the intensity of it, his moans seemingly endless as Ryan slammed into his swollen prostate again and again.

 

Mere seconds later, Ryan's rhythm had a tell-tale falter, and his teeth latched onto Gavin's neck, sucking harshly as he filled the younger man's hole with heat. Gavin's eyelids slipped to half-mast, body going compliant with the primal nature of it.

 

They stayed entwined for several long moments, sweat-slicked and struggling to catch their breath. Ryan pressed his lips gently against where he'd bitten Gavin's shoulder, pulling out and helping the younger man get to his feet. He pulled off the top sheet and dumped it on the floor as Gavin limped stiffly towards the en suite.

 

Ryan caught up to him just as he was turning on the shower, and he stepped past the Brit, placing himself under the still-cold spray.

 

"How can you always do that?" Gavin squawked at him, goosebumps prickling his skin in sympathy.

 

The older man shrugged, squinting against the water running over his face. "It's warm now," he said, and, suspicious, Gavin only stuck one hand under the spray. The water was still several degrees below lukewarm, and he retrieved his hand with a wounded expression.

 

"Rye-Bread, you're _awful_ ," he sulked, and Ryan laughed, water cascading from his hair as he tipped his head back.

 

"For real, though, it's actually warm now, hop in."

 

Gavin obeyed, but only because he could see the steam beginning to form around the spray. They washed themselves efficiently, only stealing a few kisses here and there.

 

The water had been hot enough to leave their skin flushed even after they'd stepped out and towelled off, the heat still lingering as they bundled themselves up under the covers. Gavin kissed Ryan's cheek before turning and spooning himself against the older man's chest, warm and sated. Ryan's arm circled around him as the older man kissed his shoulder, holding him close, and Gavin smiled, closing his eyes and sinking into the touch.

 

After a few minutes, though, Ryan's arm disappeared, the older man shifting beside him.

 

"I don't know," Ryan said into the darkness, something strangely vulnerable in his voice.

 

"Hm?" Gavin queried sleepily, rolling over as his eyes cracked open. He struggled to make out Ryan's features, but after a few seconds his eyes adjusted enough to be able to tell that the older man was looking straight up, eyebrows drawn tightly together. Concerned by the sudden mood change, Gavin propped himself up on one elbow, laying his other hand against Ryan's chest in a comforting gesture. "Rye, what's wrong?"

 

"Couple days ago," Ryan began, voice thick. "Dan wanted you to ask me if I knew how many people I'd killed." He sounded anguished. "I don't know. I lost track so long ago. I've ended so many lives. There's so many, I don't know."

 

Gavin swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat at Ryan's distressed tone. "Hey, it's all right," he soothed, rubbing small circles with his thumb. He dropped a gentle kiss on the blond's jaw. "You've done what you do for so long, I don't think anyone would expect you to remember the number." He gave Ryan another kiss. "If it wasn't you, then someone else would've been hired to do those jobs," he said softly. "You're just trying your best, like everyone else."

 

Ryan laughed at that, the sound gut-wrenchingly hopeless. "Gavin, I'm a professional murderer. Any way you cut it, I'm a bad person."

 

The Brit laid a hand on Ryan's arm and squeezed. "You know how many billions of dollars' worth of data I've stolen over the years? I don't. I know it's not an exact comparison, but I've done damage enough in my time to bankrupt entire companies. I'm sure that indirectly, I'm responsible for my fair share of deaths from the fallout of that."

 

"I really don't see what your point is."

 

Gavin sighed, giving him a wry smile that was almost indiscernible in the dark. "No one expects you to be perfect, Ryan. Least of all me."

 

"Pretty big imperfection."

 

Gavin smiled again. "That's human nature. It's messy, it's not meant to be perfect. Nothing is. What matters is how you treat the important people in your life. What matters is this." His hand slid back across Ryan's chest, resting over his heart. "You care, so much, and honestly, the fact that what you do bothers you sometimes is a good thing. D'you really want to go through life without any real regard for what you're doing?"

 

A shiver ran through Ryan at the thought. There had been a time, before he'd gone full time with Fake AH, where his entire existence had been consumed by his job, and he'd felt no remorse for the things he'd done. It was a dark stain on his past, and not something he wanted to ever revisit.

 

"I guess not," he muttered, beginning to feel embarrassed by his moment of weakness. Gavin smiled again, curling against his side.

 

"I love you," Gavin murmured, kissing Ryan's jaw and letting his eyelids drift shut.

 

Another shiver traversed Ryan's insides, but this one was warm and pleasant. "Love you too," he replied, the words both familiar and fresh, feeling a thrill of excitement that he'd been lucky enough to earn himself such a lovely prize. His arm looped around Gavin's shoulder, feeling the flutter of Gavin's heart against his ribcage, and he allowed the steady beat to lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone that's interested, I've created a Spotify playlist named "LIHNTBAUD" (username is, predictably, achievemenhunter) for this fic. I'm more than open to suggestions for songs to add, too. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waltzes out of the ether and deposits some porn on your lap before chachaing off into space*
> 
> ...Yeah, I know, it’s been a while. You know how it is, life, blah blah, etc, etc.
> 
> I’ll do my best to try and post a little more frequently.
> 
> Content warnings for smut, gunplay, Dom/sub dynamics.

"All right, now that last week's soap opera is over-" Geoff gave Ryan, Gavin and Dan a pointed look, and all three of them stared down at the meeting room table. "We can direct a little more of our attention to the upcoming heist and hopefully have it underway sometime within the next year. Now, I want a report of where everyone's at. Jack?"

"Got a Tailgater for the getaway car, stock black, no cosmetic mods. Upgraded the brakes and the engine, gives us a little more power and manoeuvrability. Going to get bulletproof tires and windows installed, just in case things go sideways. It'll be a bit of a squeeze getting three of you in the back seat, so I figure Ryan driving, Dan passenger, everyone else in the back. Jeremy snagged a Stockade van for us, we're using tearaway decals to make it look like a Gruppe 6 - if we get spotted, we can find somewhere to hide for a few seconds, rip 'em off, then drive out again, maybe throw off the cops a bit."

Geoff nodded. "Good thinking. Michael?"

"Tried a bunch of different bags, stuffed 'em all with newspaper and shoved 'em in the van to see which fit best. Found a set that take up almost all of the space back there. They're all stacked in the van, ready to go."

"Perfect. Ryan, Ray?"

Both men smirked. "Oh, we got plenty," Ray assured him.

Ryan added, "Obviously, other dealers got a little spooked when we had to off those morons that wanted to kill us, which made acquiring new stock a bit more difficult, but short of an apocalyptic event, we're going to be stocked up for a good while."

"And if everything goes to plan, we'll barely need to use any of it, anyway," Ray continued.

"Nice work. Gavin, what've you got for me?"

"Dan and I've cracked all the layers of the Atlas beta, we can get full access to the entire system if we want it, which won't even be necessary for the heist. But, seeing how the version we've got isn't the finalised one, we'd still like a little more time with it, find as many different pathways as possible in case there's some things that don't work."

"Fair enough. Well, it's only Monday, d'you reckon you'll be prepared enough for us to be ready to go this weekend?"

Gavin nodded with only the slightest bit of hesitance. "Guess there's only so much we can learn without having the real deal in front of us. I reckon we should be ready. Dan?"

"I agree. We've already got a couple different ways of getting past the first layer of security, it should only get easier from there."

Geoff rubbed his hands together. "All right, that means that everything should pull together by Friday, then we call all take Saturday off to rest up for the big day." He made a shooing motion at them. "Those of you with shit to do, go do it."

~* * *~

Sunday arrived altogether too quickly, with most of the crew not rising until after noon so that they would be alert still when the heist went down in the early hours of the following morning. 

Ryan and Gavin were no exception, languishing in their bed, the room warm and dim from the heavy block-out curtains covering the windows. Eventually, Ryan forced himself to clamber out from under the covers, tugging a protesting Gavin along with him. They threw a bare minimum of clothing on before padding out to the kitchen, Ryan pulling together a meal for the both of them that was technically breakfast even though it was close to 2pm.

Gavin scarfed down one of his eggs and tore at his bacon in favour of the bowl of muesli that Ryan was sedately making his way through. Ryan raised an eyebrow at his less-than-civilised table manners, and Gavin stared back challengingly, daring him to say anything. Ryan silently kept at his muesli, dipping his spoon into the yogurt at the bottom of the bowl.

"What? I get a big appetite when there's going to be a heist on, you know that."

The older man licked his spoon. "I didn't say anything."

"Your face was saying something," Gavin muttered, eviscerating his second egg, pointedly ignoring the banana Ryan had been nudging closer to his plate.

"You're gonna want something with a little more lasting energy," Ryan prompted, pointing his spoon at the banana.

"Making me bacon and eggs was a bit of a dumb idea, then."

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Please. You would've been bitching the rest of the day if I hadn't. At least the eggs are healthy. Now eat your banana."

Gavin rubbed a finger through the bacon grease on his plate, deliberately and unattractively licking his finger clean before scooping up the banana, eyes narrowed in Ryan's direction. He peeled and ate it moodily, the way he was pouting making his bottom jaw jut out in a chimp-like manner. Ryan stifled a snort before grabbing his own from the fruit bowl. He picked up an orange as well, pulling out a switchblade from somewhere - Gavin had no idea where from, seeing as the older man was only wearing a t-shirt and boxer briefs - and cut into the orange's skin like he hadn't just Houdini'd a knife from out of nowhere.

To his credit, Gavin didn't react at all to the apparent magical act going on at the other end of the table, still chewing on his banana like it was some huge chore. If Ryan was disappointed by the lack of reaction, he didn't show it, peeling the skin of the orange away and dropping the rinds in his empty bowl, eating the orange one section at a time. 

"Can you do me one, Ryan?" Gavin asked, plucking another orange from the fruit bowl and rolling it towards the blond before he'd even answered. "Do it normally, though."

"You're so polite, how can I refuse?" Ryan replied dryly, nevertheless cutting the orange into slices for Gavin to sink his teeth into. He stacked the slices on Gavin's plate and started eating his banana. Gavin made a pleased noise and bit into the first slice, draining the juice from it. Predictably, he held the last of the rinds in his mouth and grinned at Ryan, teeth completely obscured by the orange peel. Ryan couldn't help a small snicker, shaking his head and gathering up the dishes. Gavin quickly took the de-juiced slice out of his mouth and dropped it on the plate as Ryan wound around him, dumping the scraps in the bin and stacking the crockery in the dishwasher.

Gavin sidled up behind him as he scrubbed at the pan he'd used for the bacon and eggs, kissing Ryan's cheek and resting his chin against the older man's shoulder. Ryan smiled fondly, and Gavin kissed at his jaw again, pressing his lips lingeringly against Ryan's skin.

"Not until you've brushed your teeth, Egg-Breath," Ryan chuckled, to which Gavin let out an indignant squawk.

"Oi! Speak for yourself!"

Grinning, Ryan turned and purposefully exhaled directly in Gavin's face, the combination of dairy and citrus on his breath making the Brit gag. Ryan laughed as Gavin choked, decrying Ryan's general horribleness as a human being.

They both made their way to the bathroom, mint toothpaste eliminating the flavour and smell of breakfast breath. Gavin finished first, and by the time Ryan had rinsed his mouth and exited the en suite, Gavin was sitting on the foot of the mattress, legs spread and eyeing Ryan alluringly. Ryan felt his blood quicken a little just at the sight.

Gavin patted the bed beside him, gesturing backwards with his head. Ryan made a show of rolling his eyes. "We really should start getting ready," he said, but Gavin waved him off.

"C'mon, we don't _actually_ need to leave for at least another hour." Gavin wiggled his eyebrows. "How about some pre-heist good luck sex?"

"You're not even trying to make decent excuses at this point."

Gavin shrugged, not disagreeing. "Do you really need an excuse?"

Ryan answered him by surging forward with a soft growl, grinning as Gavin squeaked at the predatory nature of his actions. Gavin melted into his touch, eyelids immediately fluttering shut as Ryan's hands grabbed at him, mouth pressed against Gavin's neck as the older man bore him down against the mattress. His own hands found their way to Ryan's back, feeling the muscle there flex beneath cotton.

"Need me to take care of you, is that it?" Ryan asked, sucking a mark onto Gavin's collarbone.

"God, yes, Ryan, please," he gasped in reply, already losing himself to the submissive role as Ryan's body encompassed him.

Their shirts soon vanished, tossed onto the floor, both of them in just their underwear. Gavin's fingertips revelled in the contrast in textures of Ryan's skin, smooth planes interrupted by ridged scars. He could feel every small shift of the older man's body, everything moving like a perfect machine, all that wonderful firm weight pressing him down into the bed. Their mouths met in a heated kiss, Gavin moaning against Ryan's tongue as he felt the older man's burgeoning erection press up against him. 

Before long, Ryan was pulling off Gavin's underwear, planting teasing kisses in the creases of his hips before crawling back up the younger man's naked body, lips locking again. Gavin whined and ground his hips upwards, wordlessly begging for more.

Ryan didn't deny him.

He pulled away briefly, reaching for the lube stashed in the bedside table drawer. Gavin watched him with lust-blown pupils and remained flat on his back, not moving until he was instructed to, not wanting to assume how Ryan wanted to have him today.

All it took was a simple look from Ryan, and Gavin knew to hike his knees up, Ryan grinning down at him as he helped Gavin fold himself almost double. Ryan's thighs braced him at 90-degree angles, underwear-clad cock pressed tauntingly against his right hip. One of Ryan's forearms settled in the bend of Gavin's knees, holding him in place, while the fingers of the other hand, already slicked with lube, began rubbing slow, torturous circles around his exposed rim. Gavin whimpered and whined, hands tangled in the sheets above his head, and it only took a few minutes for broken pleas for Ryan to do something to come pouring from his lips. Ryan let out a chuckle that sent a shiver travelling all the way up Gavin's spine, and finally sank two fingers in, Gavin being so eager that it didn't take much effort at all. Gavin howled and cried, cursing as Ryan almost immediately found his prostate and began massaging it relentlessly. Ryan had him pinned so effectively that Gavin couldn't move from the waist down, his thighs pressed against his stomach and forming the walls of a neat cage that cut off his access to his cock, which Ryan had still yet to touch. Shuddering, eyes clamped shut, Gavin tossed his head back and let out another thin whine, neck straining as he pressed his head back into the mattress.

Ryan had always loved how easy it was to reduce Gavin to an utter mess.

He pulled his fingers out of the younger man and stood from the bed, earning him a noise of protest. Gavin dropped his heels and spread his legs wide, but didn't touch himself, following Ryan's unspoken command as the blond opened the cupboard and dug around in their special drawer. 

The Brit couldn't help his slight intake of breath, the small upward jolt of his hips, as Ryan turned back around, black gun in hand. His eyes were ravenous as he watched Ryan, licking his lips reflexively and biting down on them after. With a smirk, Ryan stalked back towards the bed, climbing on and running the muzzle along the inside of Gavin's thighs. Gavin twitched at the touch of the cold metal, and Ryan laughed, delighting in the goosebumps rising on Gavin's skin. He dragged the pistol back and forth in slow laps, occasionally drifting up over Gavin's abdomen to see the muscles there quiver. Once the metal had absorbed some of Gavin's body heat, Ryan finally pressed the muzzle against the juncture of Gavin's balls and cock, making the younger man curse once more at the pressure. Ryan teased Gavin there a little longer before trailing the gun upwards, metal gliding over his sternum and making him swallow as the muzzle was tucked under his chin. 

Now, finally, Ryan lined himself with Gavin's slicked hole, bracketing the younger man's thighs with his own as he slowly pressed in. Gavin all but screamed, the sound made hoarse by the pistol up against his throat, losing himself to the burn of the stretch as Ryan's thick length slowly, inexorably moved into him. It was almost a full minute before Ryan bottomed out with a quiet groan. He pulled out almost as slowly before sinking back in, revelling in the tight heat surrounding him.

Gavin panted unevenly as the gun dug into his windpipe, gazing up with his mouth open and his eyes full of lust. Ryan took this as a signal to lift the gun a little higher, to twist it sideways and press it between Gavin's open lips. The Brit moaned beneath him, hands coming up to grasp at Ryan's forearm as the gun was pushed all the way to the back of his throat. 

Using his free hand, Ryan grabbed at Gavin's hips, pulling the younger man onto him and bracing Gavin's back on his thighs, sweat and lube allowing for an easy slide. Gavin moaned around the barrel again. Ryan's thrusts were slow, calculated, and filled him up so completely that Gavin almost forgot how to breathe. He barely had the presence of mind to wrap his legs around Ryan's waist, to force him impossibly deeper, and Gavin lost himself more and more with each primal grunt that Ryan let out at the apex of every thrust. Gavin's mind seemed to flow along on a current of sensation, gliding easily into subspace as Ryan so completely dominated him.

After several languid minutes, Ryan leant back down to press his lips against Gavin's, gun dropping to the side. 

"You with me still?" Ryan asked, and Gavin smiled dreamily up at him.

"'M here."

"I want to change positions, okay? I promise I'm not leaving."

Gavin nodded. "'Kay."

Ryan gently pulled out, Gavin letting out a soft cry at the sudden emptiness. His body was loose, pliant, and it was easy for Ryan to manoeuvre the younger man into place, kneeling on the bed with Ryan directly behind him. 

The Brit let out a long moan as he settled back down onto Ryan, and another when Ryan wrapped his newly freed hand around Gavin's neglected cock, easily slicking it with the precome weeping from the head. The gun dug into Gavin's side, the metal almost feeling like it was burning hot with how much of his own heat had bled into it. 

Gavin grabbed at Ryan's thighs, back arching and moulding perfectly against Ryan's chest as the older man moved into him. Ryan barely seemed to pull out of him at the end of each thrust, seemingly intent on keeping as much of their skin in contact as was physically possible, driving himself into Gavin as deep as he could go. The pistol shifted, bumping over Gavin's ribs before coming to rest against the side of his neck. The angle was such that if the gun had been loaded, if Ryan had fired, it would kill them both.

The older man pulled the trigger and the gun clicked, empty, against Gavin's throat.

"Ryan-" he gasped, then forcefully came over the sheets.

Ryan pumped into him for a few seconds more, his pace quickly growing erratic, letting out a groan that signified his end as he let Gavin settle down onto him.

They stayed like that for several moments, the gun falling to the covers as Ryan held Gavin against him, lazily kissing at the Brit's neck, lapping up salty sweat.

Gavin mumbled something indecipherable, and Ryan perked up. 

"Hm?"

"Love you," Gavin slurred, drunk off the after-effects of sinking into subspace. Ryan smiled fondly, hand rising to stroke Gavin's jawline with his thumb.

"Love you too." He gave the younger man a soft peck on the lips. "You ready to get up?"

Gavin nodded and Ryan eased out of him, making Gavin whimper a little as he lost the feeling of fullness. Ryan admired him for a moment, hole stretched and beginning to leak come, then gently scooped Gavin into his arms. Gavin protested mildly, but Ryan hushed him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him close.

The Brit was a little wobbly on his feet when Ryan propped him up against the wall of the shower, positioning him so that the water wouldn't hit him while it was still heating up. Once it was warm, Ryan guided him under the spray, and Gavin closed his eyes with a soft smile as Ryan rubbed a soaped-up washcloth over his body. He drank in the feeling of being cared for, the pleasantly needle-like sensation of the water warming him so deliciously, the steam wisping from his skin and curling around his feet.

Ryan cradled Gavin's jaw, tilting his head up, and he opened his eyes, leaning into the touch.

"You coming back to me?" Ryan asked, eyes an impossible blue contrasting against the white tiles.

"Getting there," Gavin murmured, still using the wall as a support to stay upright. Ryan took the opportunity to quickly wash himself, then turned the water off, drying his hands on a bath towel before flicking on the bathroom heater to keep Gavin from getting cold. He dried the younger man off and then wrapped him up in a fresh towel, guiding him to sit on the bathmat in front of the warmth radiating from the heater.

"You'll be okay here for a couple minutes while I fix the bed?"

Gavin nodded, the damp spikes of his hair making him look younger than he was. Ryan left the en suite door open as he returned to the bedroom, quickly dressing, then stripped off the stained bedding and bundled it up to shove into the washing machine. He passed by the kitchen on his way back to the bedroom, gulping some water straight from the tap before filling a glass for Gavin. Gavin accepted the glass with a smile, and Ryan headed back out to remake the bed. 

Gavin's hair was mostly dry by the time he was done, forming a fluffy halo around his head.

"We've still got a little time before we have to head out. Did you want to take a quick nap before we go?"

Gavin nodded. "That'd be nice," he said, and let out a little squeak as Ryan picked him up again, removing the towel and tucking him under the cool, fresh sheets on the bed. Gavin shivered, goosebumps springing up on his skin as he waited for the blanket to warm up around him, and his hand shot out from under the covers, pulling Ryan down onto the mattress beside him. "Stay," he murmured.

"Not going anywhere," Ryan replied, fingers attempting to smooth out some of the fuzziness of Gavin's locks. The younger man's eyelids fluttered and began to droop. "I'll wake you a couple minutes before it's time to go," he promised, and Gavin let his eyes close completely, falling into a light doze with Ryan's hand still carding through his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next chapter: Heist!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies! Thank you so much for your patience, I know it's been almost three months (!) since I last posted for this fic. This chapter is almost twice as long as they usually are, so hopefully that makes up for it a little?
> 
> Content warnings for mild physical violence and mentions of death.
> 
> Heist!

****"Brownman, you in position?" Geoff's voice was a quiet murmur over the comms.

 

 _"Yep. Just like I have been for the past hour now. You guys actually gonna come and rob this bank at some point, or…?"_ he joked.

 

"Hey, we had to make sure that no one saw your ass climbing onto that roof with a rifle strapped to your back. We'll be there in five."

 

_"Well, here's hoping that you guys don't fuck up and my night continues to be boring as shit."_

 

Geoff rolled his eyes. "Beardo, how're things with Team A?"

 

 _"You mean have Vagabond and Mogar fallen out of the back of the van without me noticing?"_ Jack replied, amused.

 

 _"Kind of wish we had,"_ Michael provided, a little sourly. _"We're like a couple of fucking sardines with all these bags in here. How come the two British fucks get to roll up in the car, anyway? They're not even from this country, they shouldn't get first priority."_

 

"We're prize assets," Dan replied smugly. "You very much can't do this without us."

 

Geoff glanced at them in the rear-view mirror. "All right, we're a couple blocks from the target now, you getting a signal back there yet?"

 

"Nothing yet," Dan reported, eyes on the screen of the laptop balanced on his knees, Gavin leaning across to look as well. "Okay, getting a weak signal now, pull off into that laneway at the end of the street."

 

The older man followed his instructions, killing the engine and the lights, the dimness of the laptop screen and the heavily tinted windows allowing them to vanish into the darkness.

 

"Signal's good here. Let's knock and see if Atlas answers."

 

"Bad analogy," Gavin murmured absently. "We don't want Atlas knowing we're here."

 

"Well, sorry for trying to add some flair," Dan muttered, a little put out by Gavin's matter-of-fact response. He'd almost forgotten about Gavin's current animosity towards him. He shook himself, getting back to task, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he communicated with the small device their scout Steffie had planted earlier in the week.

 

It took several minutes, exhausting all the different methods that he and Gavin had come up with to get into the Atlas beta. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks, glad beyond measure that they'd taken the time to find multiple ways of getting into Atlas, otherwise the whole thing would have been over before it even started.

 

"All right, we're in. Looping footage from the exterior cameras now and… Beardo, you're clear to pull up alongside the bank. Let us know when you're ready to go, then I'll deactivate Atlas."

 

Gavin watched the screen intently, then suddenly called out, "Wait!"

 

Dan shot him a look, and the other Brit gestured for him to keep his eyes on the screen. Dan obeyed, gaze focused. "What, what am I looking for?"

 

"There's the ping," Gavin replied, pointing to a small dialogue box.

 

"What about it?"

 

"Look at the timestamps."

 

"…Shit."

 

Geoff turned in the front seat. "Some communication would be nice."

 

"It looks like Atlas doesn't ping back to its HQ every five minutes," Gavin said grimly.

 

"How long between each ping, then?" Geoff snapped, beginning to lose patience.

 

"One minute," the Brits replied in unison.

 

"…And how long did you say it takes to reactivate Atlas after you've deactivated it?"

 

"The same."

 

Geoff slammed his fist against the top of the steering wheel. "Fuck," he breathed. "Can you do it any faster?"

 

"We can," Dan affirmed, "but not by much. There's only going to be a few seconds every cycle that we can use, everyone's going to have to move exactly when they're told to."

 

 _"Your call, Boss,"_ Jack murmured over the comms. The van engine rumbled, idling in the laneway beside the bank. _"Team A and I are ready to go if you say so."_

 

Geoff drummed his fingers against the wheel. "You sure you can shave that time off?"

 

"Positive."

 

He chewed his lip for a moment, deliberating. "Brownman, visual?"

 

_"Still clear. I can just see where the van is from up here, it's completely hidden from the street."_

 

Geoff nodded firmly. "All right. Strap in, boys, we're doing this."

 

The rear doors of the van opened, sounding out clearly through everyone's ear pieces. Jack's door opened and closed a moment later.

 

 _"Team A prepped to head in,"_ Jack reported. _"I'm standing by for when everyone starts bringing the bags back out."_

 

Dan shifted the computer from his lap. "Ready to take over?"

 

Gavin nodded, taking the laptop and setting it across his legs. "Got it." He glanced at the dialogue box. "Fifteen seconds until ping. Enter on my mark."

 

Sweat began to bead on his upper lip as the digital clock in the corner of the screen ticked closer and closer.

 

"Ping sent," Dan advised for him as Gavin leapt to action, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Stand by for Atlas shut down."

 

"Mark!" Gavin all but shouted twenty seconds later, and almost simultaneously he heard the service door for the bank opening, then rapidly shutting again.

 

 _"In,"_ Ryan reported, and Gavin began typing furiously again, heart beating what felt like a million times a minute as the seconds counted down.

 

 _Moment of truth,_ he thought, blood pounding in his ears.

 

"Back up," he proclaimed with a huge sigh of relief, the dialogue box displaying a successful ping mere seconds later.

 

A rapid double-tap report of gunfire echoed over their earpieces, quickly followed by another.

 

 _"Guards down,"_ Michael announced. _"Team B, you joining the party?"_

 

"Don't start without us," Geoff grinned. He and Dan pulled their masks down to cover their faces and left the car, leaving Gavin to lock it from the inside as they headed for the bank.

 

 _"Let me know when you're in place,"_ Gavin murmured, voice now flat-sounding through their earpieces.

 

They approached the bank quietly, only their soft footfalls and muted breath betraying their presence over the comms. Jack nodded at them from beside the truck, handing them a bunch of bags to sling over their shoulders.

 

Geoff looked at the door. "All right, Golden Boy. You gonna let us in or what?"

 

 _"Prepping,"_ Gavin informed them, then, slightly quicker off the mark this time, cried out, _"Go!"_

 

Dan yanked the handle, Geoff rushing in and Dan darting after him.

 

"In!" Geoff practically yelled, voice cracking slightly with excitement. Gavin had Atlas up and running again with a few seconds to spare.

 

Geoff and Dan moved through the building, making their way to the vault where Ryan and Michael were waiting, dumping the duffels at their feet. Dan stepped up, pulling a tablet PC out from the small backpack slung over his shoulder. He sat on the floor, cross-legged, cradling the tablet in his lap so he could type with both hands. It probably wouldn't have made much difference, though - after successfully cracking Atlas, deactivating the seismic sensors on the vault was child's play.

 

He allowed himself a self-congratulatory smile as the sensors shut themselves off, then set to work fooling the alarm system on the vault that got triggered by unauthorised entry, making sure that it would think that the locks were still engaged once they had the door open.

 

"Shit," Geoff muttered suddenly. Everyone tensed except for Dan, still steadfastly working on the alarm system.

 

_"What? What is it?"_

 

"Sorry, I just realised that Atlas only being down for a few seconds at a time makes getting the bags in and out a lot more difficult. We need to figure out how we're going to do that."

 

Gavin considered for a moment. _"How about we get Beardo to pass them inside to you in bundles, and you can stack them beside the door? Then the others swap them out for the bags they've already filled, and once all the empties are inside you start passing the full ones out to him? It'll still be slower than it would have been, but better than swapping them one at a time."_

 

Geoff looked to the others, who nodded. "Honestly, that's probably the best option we've got right now. Beardo, get the bags ready, I'm heading back to the door."

 

He left the others at a light jog. Halfway down the corridor that led back to the exterior door, Dan reported that he'd successfully nullified the alarm. The sound of the drill being set in place and activated by Michael and Ryan echoed down the corridor after him.

 

"All right, Golden Boy, let me know when I can open the door."

 

 _"Give it about thirty seconds,"_ Gavin told him. Geoff glanced at his watch, his eyes following the second hand as it moved in a slow circle. With five seconds to go, he put his hand on the door handle.

 

 _"Now!"_ Gavin ordered, and Geoff yanked it open, scooping the stack of bags out of Jack's waiting arms. Jack pulled the door shut as Geoff piled the bags against one wall, conscious of the limited space offered by the corridor.

 

 _"We're in the vault,"_ Ryan reported, and Geoff grinned.

 

"Start loading up the bags you've got, I'll join you when all the other bags're inside."

 

_"Copy that, Boss."_

 

Geoff and Jack kept at the tedious task of shuttling the bags from outside to inside, always moving on Gavin's mark. After a few rounds, Michael, Ryan and Dan came down the hall in quick succession, each of them dropping off bags filled with a mix of cash and gold bars, doing their best to stack them neatly so that they wouldn't get in the way. They each gathered a stack of the empty bags before heading back to the vault.

 

It was several long minutes before all the bags were inside. Geoff began moving the filled bags closer to the door, grunting as he hefted the bags that had been filled more with gold than cash. "Couldn't have distributed the weight in these a little more evenly?" he groused.

 

 _"Do you even lift, bro?"_ Ray joked softly before he could help himself.

 

"Shut up, Brownman," Geoff grumbled. "You're supposed to be silent right now anyway, you're on lookout. Don't give away your position."

 

Ray snorted quietly, still carefully watching the bank.

 

 _"Boss, Beardo, ready to move in ten?"_ Gavin asked, cutting across the banter. Geoff snapped back to professionalism.

 

"Ready."

 

_"Ready."_

 

_"Mark!"_

 

Jack shoved the door open and then stepped to the side, giving Geoff the space to swing the bag like a battering ram, letting go at the last second so that it was flung out the door. Geoff used the forward momentum to stagger towards the door after it, slightly off balance, and swung the door shut.

 

 _"Graceful,"_ Jack commented over the comms.

 

"Shut up."

 

Ryan, Michael and Dan were approaching down the hall again, each easily hefting two bags. Geoff scowled at them, just a little.

 

 _"Ready in ten?"_ Gavin asked, and Geoff grabbed for another bag, easing it off the pile beside him.

 

"Ready," Geoff confirmed. Jack echoed him.

 

_"Mark!"_

 

The door swung open, and Geoff swung the bag forward, but mid-motion something in his back twinged and twisted and he fell with a cry, his shoulder jarring against the edge of the door, sliding painfully down it as his weight forced it partially closed. Jack gave him a concerned look from behind his mask, but still acted quickly, dragging the bag the rest of the way outside, the door clicking shut after.

 

_"Boss, you okay?"_

 

_"Are you hurt, what happened?"_

 

_"Did you get the door closed in time, are we okay?"_

 

The questions cascaded over the comm units.

 

"I'm fine," Geoff grated, grimacing as he stood. "Just pulled something in my back, I think." He let out a groan, hand going to the base of his spine as he straightened. "I'm getting too old for this shit," he muttered.

 

 _"Maybe you should swap with someone that's loading up the bags,"_ Jack said. _"You could load them up and have the others take them out for you."_

 

Geoff bristled at the notion that he couldn't do his job by himself, but forced himself to swallow his pride. It was true, after all, and acting like it wasn't would likely result in further injury. "All right. Vagabond, get your ass back over here, we're swapping out."

 

_"On my way."_

 

Geoff started off down the hall, his gait a little uneven, every step causing a slight twinge of pain. Soon, he was passing Ryan, who gave him a nod and continued on to the door.

 

Gavin's voice came over the comms. _"Vagabond, you in place?"_

 

_"I'm here."_

 

_"On my mark…"_

 

Geoff nodded curtly at Michael and Dan, setting up a bag on an emptied space on one of the shelves before beginning to transfer crisp wads of bank bills into it. A decent amount of progress had already been made, the two other men working efficiently to carry both their own bags and Geoff's out to Ryan. The only sounds were the rustle of paper notes, the soft clunk of gold bars knocking against one another, and the steady rhythm of Gavin directing Ryan on when to toss the next bag outside.

 

The minutes ticked by until finally, the last of the bags were filled, Michael and Dan both lugging out a bag in each hand, Geoff limping along empty-handed behind them. At some point, Ryan had figured out a way to be able to throw two bags out to Jack per cycle, and by the time Michael, Dan, and Geoff approached, Ryan was already outside himself, the hallway cleared and the truck almost fully loaded. A few more minutes saw the three of them outside as well. Michael crammed his bags into what little space was left, then unburdened Dan of his second bag.

 

"Brownman, get your ass down here," Geoff ordered over the comms, grinning despite the enduring pain in his back.

 

_"Already on my way."_

 

"Golden Boy, have you got the engine running for us?" Geoff asked, already setting off in the direction of their getaway car. Ryan, Dan, and Michael followed behind.

 

 _"She's ready to go,"_ Gavin assured him, unlocking the car doors as he saw the other men approach. Michael and Dan circled around to the boot, popping it open and shoving the last two bags inside as Geoff piled in beside Gavin and Ryan took his place in the driver's seat. The boot was slammed shut and Dan slid into the passenger seat, while a grumbling Michael squeezed into the backseat only designed for two, sandwiching Gavin between himself and Geoff. Dan slipped his mask off and shook out his slightly sweaty hair, Michael and Geoff following suit. Ryan elected to keep his on, for no apparent reason other than the fact that Dan had said that the skull's face was unsettling. He didn't say anything as he began to drive, and Dan looked at him askance.

 

"You gonna take that mask off at any point, Ryan?" he asked. "I mean, if someone passing by happens to look into the car and see a skeleton man driving, they might remember that."

 

"Windows are tinted," Ryan replied curtly. Dan deflated a little. The message was clear: Ryan may have agreed to not punch Dan in the face anymore, but that in no way meant they were friends.

 

He twisted in his seat to grin at the three men mashed together in the back instead.

 

"I've got to say, this has been loads of fun. Feel free to have me over for missions more often."

 

Geoff glanced pointedly at the back of Ryan's head. "I'll keep it in mind," he said evenly. "It's going to be a while before we need to pull off something like this again, anyway."

 

"Right," Dan agreed, turning around again.

 

Ryan kept an eagle-eyed gaze on their surroundings, but as they drove it became clearer and clearer that no one was yet the wiser about the millions they'd just stolen. Laughter broke out, part relief and part triumph.

 

"Fuck me, we actually got away with it," Geoff grinned, no longer caring that Gavin's elbow was jabbing him in the stomach, or that he was jammed up against the door. He wriggled an arm free and dragged Gavin into a headlock, giving him a noogie despite his squawking protests. Michael chuckled at him.

 

"Jack still needs to get everything back to base," Ryan reminded him, but Geoff waved him off with his free hand.

 

"Ah, he's fine. Aren't you, Jack?"

 

 _"I'm fine,"_ Jack replied, his humour evident. _"You and Michael and Gav getting nice and cosy?"_

 

Michael scowled. "Our dicks are practically stacked like Jenga, we're so close together."

 

"Make sure you're keeping my money safe, Pattillo," Geoff warned.

 

"Oi! _Our_ money," Gavin corrected, head still trapped in the crook of Geoff's elbow. Geoff noogied him again.

 

"I only care about _my_ cut of the money, he can dump the rest out on Vespucci Beach for all I care."

 

Michael raised an eyebrow. "And just let a bunch of randoms on the beach take the money that you busted your back out over?"

 

Geoff finally released Gavin. "Well, it's not like the rest of you fucks aren't going to waste it anyway, so he might as well."

 

Ryan piped up from the front seat. "Excuse you, I happen to be very fiscally responsible."

 

Geoff snorted with disbelief. "Ryan, I know for a fact that you once ordered a set of three hundred throwing knives. Three _hundred_."

 

The blond grinned wickedly underneath his mask. "And I used them all, didn't I?"

 

And Geoff couldn't really argue with that.

 

Soon enough, they found themselves back at their base, Jack and Ray sedately trundling up several minutes after. At some point, they'd pulled over and ripped off all the decals, leaving the truck unmarked as they navigated closer to their destination. Geoff pulled the back doors open, grinning at the tightly wedged stacks of bags, then bowed theatrically to the other men assembled and waved them forward. "C'mon, they're not getting themselves in the vault. I'd help, of course, but my back's still _killing_ me."

 

"Now you're just milking it," Gavin muttered, but dutifully stepped forward with the others to start unloading the bags.

 

~* * *~  
 

They spent the rest of the week lying low. As expected, Monday morning saw coverage of the robbery splashed across all of Los Santos' major news sites, but there was no indication that anyone knew who was actually behind it.

 

They didn't celebrate their success until Friday, the city nightlife thrumming around them as they made their way to Geoff's favourite bar. Ryan, and even Ray, joined in as well, despite neither of them being drinkers. They each grabbed a Diet Coke while Jack, Dan and Gavin grabbed beers. Geoff, meanwhile, ordered a bottle of the most expensive whiskey they had to be brought to their table, along with enough glasses to completely empty the bottle into.

 

"Celebrating?" the bartender asked with a knowing smile.

 

Geoff grinned in reply. He'd been a patron here for years, and knew he could trust the bartender's discretion. "You could say that."

 

They made their way to the quiet, secluded booth near the back of the bar that was permanently reserved in Geoff's name. The bartender set all of Geoff's glasses in a neat row, efficiently proceeding to pour two fingers of whiskey into the bottom of each. "You gentlemen have a good night," he said, dipping his head in Geoff's direction before returning to the bar.

 

Geoff plucked up the first drink in the line. "To the future," he announced grandly, then downed the drink in one go, grinning wide. "Marcus 's got his hands full for a while, scrubbing and reprinting all that fuckin' dough we raked in." He grabbed the second glass, drinking it just as quickly and smacking his lips after. "Feel a little bad for him, honestly."

 

Jack stole one of the glasses from Geoff's line-up, the older man only giving him a mild glare. Geoff was too happy to actually be mad. "Those awful banks, keeping track of the serial numbers of their notes, making it harder for honest thieves to get away with robbing them," Jack deadpanned. "How dare they."

 

"I know!" Geoff replied, downing another glass in his indignation.

 

"Well, we showed them anyway," Michael pointed out, and Geoff grinned again.

 

"Fair point, Michael m'boy." He sipped at his fourth glass more sedately, taking the time to actually savour the ludicrously expensive whiskey.

 

Michael raised an eyebrow. "You don't have your moustache anymore, you have literally no excuse to talk like that."

 

Geoff's fingers rose involuntarily to where said moustache had been and sighed wistfully. "I _do_ miss it sometimes."

 

Ryan snorted. "No you don't. You remember how much you used to bitch about the damn thing, right? When Griffon let you shave it off, that was the happiest you've been in years."

 

"Until now," Geoff corrected.

 

"Close second, now," Ryan conceded with a small smile.

 

The night wore on, those of them that were drinking growing rowdier and rowdier. Ray was the first to bow out, knowing that when Geoff started to profess his undying love for everyone at the table that things were only going to go downhill from there. Ryan hung on for Gavin's sake, but even drunk as he was the Brit soon realised that Ryan couldn't possibly be having much fun anymore, what with being the only sober one when the rest of them were well and truly intoxicated. "Jus' g'home, Ryan, I can see you're gettin' bored here." He grinned wonkily, letting out a small hiccup. "'Sides, 's not like I'll be much use t'you, I'm full of bevs now." He pointed one forefinger at Ryan, placing it level with his own crotch, then let it curl downwards complete with sound effects, imitating a flaccid penis. He laughed at his own crass humour. Ryan chuckled despite himself, graciously excusing himself for the night and leaving the other men to their drinking.

 

Several more hours passed, but Gavin didn't end up drinking anything more, enough alcohol in his system already to keep himself buzzed. Dan caught the eye of an attractive, fair-haired twenty-something at the bar, and, grinning, peeled himself away from the group. Geoff and Jack proceeded to try and drink each other under the table, and, while initially amusing, Michael and Gavin both began to lose interest as the two older men polished off yet another bottle of whiskey between them.

 

"Think that's me done for tonight," Gavin announced, swaying a little as he stood. Michael joined him, and Geoff and Jack grunted in their direction, not breaking eye contact with one another as they downed another shot. Michael rolled his eyes and staggered off, Gavin trailing behind him.

 

Once they got outside, a gust of air - cool, if not exactly clean - brushed over their faces, refreshing them a little as they meandered down the sidewalk. It was late enough that the streets weren't thronging with crowds, but there were definitely people about, either heading home like themselves, or searching for the next bar in which to continue their night.

 

"So, we gonna find a fuckin' taxi to split, or what?"

 

Gavin waved him off sloppily. "Nah, you're on your own. I'll jus' walk. 'S not that far."

 

Michael frowned. "Whaddya mean, you live _ages_ away from here-" he cut himself off with a cacophonous laugh. "Oh, wait, I keep fuckin' forgetting. Ryan does you up the ass now, you don' live in your apartment anymore." He made a crude gesture that involved shoving his right fist up through his tightly curled left hand, grinning and wriggling his eyebrows obscenely. Gavin shoved at him, both of them stumbling and struggling to keep their balance, squinting a little as a set of headlights rounded the corner behind them and flashed straight into their eyes.

 

"Shuddup!" Gavin slurred hotly, his already alcohol-ruddy cheeks reddening further. Michael cackled at him, then threw his hand up in the air, like some sort of sixth sense had told him the car rolling up behind them was a taxi. The driver dutifully pulled up to the curb, Michael bundling himself inside and slamming the door.

 

As the taxi began to pull away, he rolled down the window, leaning halfway out of it as he hollered back to Gavin, "Later, asshole!"

 

The Brit flipped him off cheerfully, and he only just heard Michael's laughter over the taxi's engine. Soon the vehicle turned the corner, out of sight, and Gavin plodded along in a vaguely straight line. The throbbing din of the nightlife faded as he headed away from the heart of the city, making his way to the quieter outskirts. He'd always found it fascinating how after just a few streets, the crowds of night-time revellers dropped to zero, only the muffled bass and distant drunken shouting indicating their presence nearby.

 

Intoxicated as he was, it took a while for him to realise he was being followed.

 

The footfalls behind him were deliberate and confident, yet still soft, and it sounded like there was more than one set. Gavin couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, and his heart sank.

 

Three men were striding along just a little too purposefully behind him. All with well-defined muscles, all looking like they knew how to use them. Gavin silently cursed himself for not having asked Ryan to teach him more hand-to-hand. Not that it would have done him much good, with the state he was in and the odds that he was facing - but just knowing how easily he was likely to go down made the situation all the more terrifying.

 

He tried not to be obvious that he'd noticed they were following him, but the amount of alcohol addling his mind made it a little difficult to put up a decent act. With shaking fingers, he pulled out his phone, sending Ryan a hasty text. _Being followed help_ , he wrote, his autocorrect miraculously fixing the garbled mess his shaking fingers had typed out. He also texted Ryan the name of the street he was on, despite knowing that there was no chance in hell that the older man would be able to find him in time. He shoved his phone back in his pocket, balling his hands into fists in an attempt to stop their trembling.

 

The footsteps behind him quickened, and Gavin broke out into an immediate, sloppy sprint, making to loop back towards a street closer to the night clubs, where there would be other people, witnesses to whatever whoever was following him wanted to do. He ached for the gun Ryan had given him, but of course it was at home - a veritable world away. He felt laughably, horrifically vulnerable without it, breath catching in a sob as he heard the now-pounding footfalls of his pursuers grow closer and closer. He stumbled and they were on him, grabbing at his arms and one of them covering his mouth with their hand before he could think to scream.

 

He squirmed and screamed anyway, despite the ineffectiveness of both actions. He tried to remember the different ways to break a hold that Ryan had taught him, but he hadn't really found the physical self-defence stuff as exciting as firing a gun and he'd often morphed the training sessions into make-out sessions and everything he'd learnt had only been dealing with one opponent-

 

He stopped when he felt a cold blade press against his neck.

 

"Shh," one of the men whispered mockingly in his ear, fingers tightening in Gavin's hair. The Brit's breath came hard and fast, stopping and stuttering with frightened gulps. The hands on his arms and over his mouth vanished, but the knife stayed where it was, pressed up against his frantic pulse. He didn't move.

 

Two sets of footsteps retreated almost to the point of inaudibility, then car doors slammed, an engine rumbled to life, tires crunched quietly over the detritus collecting in the gutter. Gavin's eyes flicked in the direction of the sound, watching helplessly as a nondescript van pulled up beside him, perfectly positioned underneath a blown-out streetlight. He was dragged to the back, the rear doors thrown open by the man inside.

 

This close, Gavin could see the man's chiselled, stubble-coated jaw, short-cropped dark blond hair, and with a jolt realised he knew him - Blaine, one of the enforcers for the RT Crew. Gavin had never met the man in person, not generally one to be in the field during operations. He had, however, seen Blaine on camera footage before, when he'd been running surveillance when the two crews had clashed in the past. His heart leapt into his throat, seeming to beat right up against the knife resting there. Their crews were not exactly on the friendliest of terms, and Gavin couldn't even begin to imagine the trouble he'd just gotten himself into. 

 

Blaine stepped forward to pat him down, quickly pulling Gavin's phone from his pocket. His fingers flicked across the screen a few times, then he tossed it into the street. The phone silently lit up with a text, the screen a bright little box of light against the tarmac, and Gavin strained against the hands still holding him, momentarily forgetting about the blade pressed against his skin. It was Ryan, it had to be. He could see the older man in his mind's eye - fingers drumming on the steering wheel as his worried eyes switched between looking at his phone and scanning the streets, too concerned that actually calling might compromise Gavin's position if he were hiding, cursing under his breath as the seconds ticked by and Gavin didn't reply.

 

The knife cut into Gavin's skin slightly, a hot trickle of blood rolling down his throat and soaking into his collar. He whimpered and went still, the phone vanishing back into the gloom as the screen went dark. Blaine continued his frisking with efficient motions.

 

Eventually satisfied there was nothing of importance left of Gavin's person, Blaine pulled out his own phone, tapping rapidly before holding it to his ear.

 

"Got the Vagabond's bitch," he said, and Gavin's stomach wrenched itself sideways. After a reply that the Brit couldn't hear, he added, "Of course, Boss. On our way."

 

Oh god. This wasn't about the crew, this was about _Ryan_. And 'Boss' could only be Burnie Burns, leader of the RT Crew. Gavin thought furiously, trawling through his memories as he tried to remember if he'd heard any recent chatter about anything Ryan could have done to piss off a man like that, but with a sinking feeling, he realised he hadn't been paying as much attention to that side of his job recently with all the heist work.

 

"Get in," the knife-wielding man ordered, thankfully removing said knife from Gavin's neck before shoving him inside. Gavin dared a glance over his shoulder, and saw a flash of pale skin and an aquiline nose under a short mop of dark hair. He was another of Burnie's men - was it Adrian? Aden? No, wait, Aaron - now climbing in behind Gavin, blade gleaming with reflected streetlight. Blaine closed the doors and the driver took off, the only light now from a few dim bulbs in the ceiling. No windows for Gavin to signal that he was in trouble to anyone on the street. Not that he would have felt brave enough to try it, not with Aaron's knife glinting silver-sharp very close to vulnerable parts of his body.

 

Gavin stared at the floor between Aaron's feet, struggling not to hyperventilate. He was silent, not just because he knew that any words he spoke would sound shaky and pitifully terrified, but also because he knew that asking questions would get him nowhere.

 

Longing for Ryan keened through him. He wanted the older man to find the van somehow, rip open the doors like a movie action hero, slaughtering the enemies within and saving Gavin from their clutches. Then he remembered what Blaine had called him - _the Vagabond's bitch_ \- and his insides twisted themselves in a whole new series of knots as he realised that the RT Crew would probably love to see him try. That Gavin was meant as little more than bait.

 

Because he was Ryan's weak spot now, and someone, somehow, had figured that out.

 

He bit his lip to stop it trembling too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final note, I've just realised I was a dumb idiot and the LIHNTBAUD playlist I made on Spotify was set to Secret. It's set to Public now, if anyone wants to have a listen.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just realised that this is the first time I’ve updated this fic this year *sweats*
> 
> Sorry for making you all wait so long.
> 
> Content warnings for kidnapping, death threats, mild physical violence, and Tasers.

Ryan couldn't compare the horrible, hollowed out feeling in his stomach when he'd read Gavin's frantic texts to anything he'd ever felt before. He dashed through the house, quickly arming himself, slinging on a shoulder holster with a pistol on each side and jamming another gun into the waistband of his jeans, the several small knives already stashed on his person joined by some larger friends. He didn't bother taking the time to apply his black greasepaint around his eyes, but he did grab his mask, feeling slightly calmer once he donned it.

 

Down in the garage, he gave his motorbike a pass, forgoing the manoeuvrability of the bike for the extra protection provided by a car with bulletproof windows. The engine roared as Ryan started up his Zentorno, but he forced himself to drive at an at least moderately reasonable speed. The last thing he wanted to do right now was draw the attention of the police.

 

It still only took him a matter of minutes to reach the street Gavin had last texted him from. He didn't dare to so much as text him back, just in case the Brit was hiding from whoever had been following him and had forgotten to switch his phone to silent.

 

The fact that Gavin had only been a dozen-odd blocks away from home was beyond maddening.

 

Ryan drummed his fingers along the top of his steering wheel, alert gaze searching for anything unusual. The car purred quietly down the street, creases forming at the corners of his eyes as he scanned the empty sidewalks. Something caught the flare of his headlights, briefly flashing with reflected light, and Ryan stopped in the middle of the street, squinting against the dim glow cast by the street lamps. He stepped out of the car, leaving it idling as he approached the place he's seen the small, reflective rectangle.

 

Gavin's phone.

 

He snatched it up, inspecting it quickly before pressing the home button. He had no idea what the code for Gavin's phone was, but it didn't matter - there was a notification on the lock screen for a text message from a number Ryan didn't recognise. The message was only a few words long, and so the entirety of it was displayed in the notification.

 

_Call or he dies._

~* * *~

 

Gavin didn't know how long it took for the van to reach its destination. It could have been minutes or hours, and either would have felt like eternity.

 

He gave up almost immediately on trying to keep track of the turns they were taking. He knew that he'd never remember them all, and he'd probably reverse them wrong in his head anyway, and besides, what was the point of being able to retrace his steps if there was no way that he'd escape in the first place? That was Ryan's forte, not Gavin's. He didn't have the skills necessary to successfully get away.

 

Gavin stared at the floor of the van, focusing on his breathing and resolutely ignoring the knife hovering only a few feet away from him. Ignoring the fact that if Ryan were here, he'd have already taken the knife from Aaron by now and killed him.

 

No. He couldn't keep thinking like that, couldn't keep dwelling on his inadequacies and how much better equipped Ryan was to deal with this. It would only make him want to cry, which would be the worst thing for him in this situation.

 

Besides, the RT Crew were far from amateurs. They wanted Ryan to find Gavin, to focus on freeing him even at the cost of his own freedom. Gavin redirected all his desire for Ryan to rescue him, instead praying that the older man would acknowledge the fact that the obvious trap being set would almost definitely result in his own death, that he would do the wise thing and go to Geoff and mobilise their crew rather than charging in on his own.

 

Even as he thought it, though, he knew it was futile. Ryan would never give up without a fight, and he loved Gavin. There was no chance in hell that the older man wouldn't use every last breath in his body to secure Gavin's safety in the most expedient way possible.

 

The van slowed to a stop, and Blaine stood, throwing the van doors open and jumping down before making a sharp beckoning motion at Gavin. "C'mon, we haven't got all day," he barked, and Gavin involuntarily glanced at the knife in Aaron's hand before clambering out. God, he hated how little it took for them to keep him in line - one guy with a knife and Gavin was completely outmatched. He drew a slight amount of comfort from the fact that they both had pistols at their sides, a notion that seemed so backwards that he almost laughed.

 

Aaron sheathed the knife, and he and Blaine each grabbed one of Gavin's arms, dragging him into the warehouse that the van had parked in front of. The lot outside was deserted, bar a smattering of armed men patrolling the area that were obviously also under Burnie's employ.

 

It was clear that it had been a long time since the warehouse had been used for legitimate activities. The outside was practically derelict, the sections of wall that weren't rotting or peeling away covered in graffiti. The inside was better only in the sense that some work had been done to ensure that the building remained structurally sound. Other than that, the level of dirt and disrepair was the same, meaning that the building could be left in a hurry and it would still look like it had been abandoned for years.

 

Once inside, Blaine and Aaron yanked him over to a chair sitting by itself in the middle of an open space. They shoved him down into it, Aaron holding him down while Blaine walked off to grab a roll of duct tape from a dusty metal shelf nearby.

 

The ripping sound of the duct tape being unspooled startled Gavin into an effectual attempt to escape. He tore his arm away when Blaine grabbed at it, knowing that no matter how deep he was already, it would only get worse if they could bind him to the chair and have him completely at their mercy.

 

"You're gonna want to behave," Aaron growled, knife flashing out once more and digging into the small cut on Gavin's throat. Gavin reflexively tried to strain away, and Aaron grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding him still and pressing the knife a tiny bit deeper. A fresh line of blood traced its way down the Brit's neck and he stopped moving, his breath shaky and shallow. Tears stung at his eyes as he was forced to allow Blaine to continue taping him to the chair, wrists and ankles both firmly bound in place.

 

Blaine pulled out his phone. "He's secure, Boss. Waiting on you." There was a pause, presumably as he listened to the response. "Got it. See you in 5." He hung up and sneered over at Gavin. "Hope you're ready."

 

Gavin did his best to keep himself from visibly trembling, fists clenching so that his fingers wouldn't shake. The next five minutes felt more like days, and Gavin found himself almost relieved when he heard tires quietly crunching on the rough tarmac outside. A car door slammed and footsteps approached, Aaron and Blaine visibly straightening as their boss strode into view.

 

"So, Gavin, isn't it? Y'know, you've caused quite a few problems for me since taking up with Geoff. But, business is business, right? I'm not gonna hold it against you." He put his hands in the pockets of his expensive-looking suit pants. "D'you know who I am?"

 

Gavin struggled not to stammer. "You're Burnie Burns."

 

Burnie grinned wide. "Great! That makes things easier. Don't worry, you're not going to be here long. I left a message for your little friend, I reckon he'll be calling any minute now."

 

"Why are you doing this?" Gavin whispered, lips stiff with fear.

 

"Let's just say the Vagabond and I have a little history that needs revisiting. He knows what he did. And if he doesn't…" Burnie smirked. "I'll make him remember."

 

A cold shiver ran down Gavin's spine. "What do you want?"

 

"Look, I'll be the first to admit that I've got some personal motives for wanting him instead of you, but like I said, this is still business. When you get back to Geoff, tell him to give me a call, then we can discuss terms."

 

"If you want money-"

 

Burnie shot him a look and the words died in his throat. "C'mon, kid, don't be an idiot. If this was about money, we both know that there's a million easier ways I could go about it. It's real simple, actually. I just-" He cut himself off as his phone began to ring. A supercilious smile curled at his lips, and he motioned Blaine forward. "This'll be him, I bet." Blaine looped a piece of fabric over the front of Gavin's face, forcing it between his teeth, tying it behind the Brit's head to secure it before he even realised what was going on. "Let's see what he has to say about the situation, hm?" He answered the call and held the phone to his ear.

 

_"Where's Gavin?"_ Ryan's voice snapped dangerously through the phone. Gavin yelled into the gag, but it was clear that Burnie was standing too far away for the microphone to pick him up.

 

Burnie tutted, grinning wide. "What, no _hello, my name's Ryan, who am I speaking with?_ Considering I have something you want, I'd be a little more polite if I were you."

 

_"I'm not going to repeat myself."_

 

"Don't be stupid, Haywood," Burnie said softly. "You don't want to be the reason for his death, do you?"

 

Ryan's controlling breath was audible _. "Who am I speaking with?"_

 

The crime boss grinned. "My name's Burnie Burns. You might've heard of me."

 

There was several seconds of silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Ryan whispered _, "What have you done with Gavin?"_

 

"Nothing, yet. Whether or not that changes is entirely up to you." Burnie held the phone away from his mouth and addressed Gavin. "Tell him you're in one piece and nothing else. Got it?"

 

Gavin nodded and Blaine loosened the gag enough for it to fall out of his mouth. Burnie moved closer and held the phone up for him to speak.

 

"Ryan, I'm fine, please don't do-"

 

The gag was yanked back in place, and, at a nod from Burnie, Aaron stepped forward with his knife and scored a deep line across Gavin's bicep. The Brit's scream was only partially muffled by the cloth between his teeth.

 

Burnie pulled back. "Now, see, he didn't listen to me there, did he? Very brave of him, trying to tell you not to come for him, but that doesn't earn him much. Not like I particularly want him, anyway."

 

_"What_ do _you want?"_ Ryan struggled to keep the menace from his voice.

 

"Oh, come on, it's not like it's that difficult to figure out."

 

_"You want a trade,"_ he replied quietly. Gavin protested behind the gag.

 

"Glad I don't have to dumb it down for you."

 

_"Me for him?"_

 

"I always try to keep things simple."

 

_"And what reassurance do I have for his safety if I accept?"_

 

Burnie's lips curled at the corner. "Oh, you'll accept. You'll just have to trust my sense of honour. And the promise that your boy toy here won't make it through the night if you don't. I'm not here to fuck around, Vagabond."

 

Ryan was silent for several long seconds _. "…Where."_

 

"Warehouse 636, Mutiny Road. You've got fifteen minutes. And if I see anyone but you coming my way, then a bullet's going in between your little twink's eyes."

 

~* * *~

 

Ryan's hand trembled slightly as he lowered his phone.

 

_Oh, Gavin, what've you gotten yourself into?_

 

Shaking himself, Ryan put the phone away and got back into his car, reminding himself sternly that he was on a deadline. He disarmed as he drove, dropping his assortment of weapons into the passenger seat. There was no point in keeping them equipped - if he tried to use them, Gavin would be killed, and if he tried to wear them into the warehouse, they'd just be taken from him anyway.

 

It took him just under twelve minutes to reach the right warehouse. At least, he hoped it was the right warehouse. It was definitely 6-3-something, but the last number was indistinguishable due to the rust that had eaten away at the sign. Still, the scattering of armed men not-so-subtly surveying the area made him think that, more likely than not, he'd reached his destination.

 

Ryan parked a little ways away from the nondescript van - and the far flashier Adder next to it - situated to the left of the open rolling door of the warehouse. He turned the car off, leaving the keys in the ignition, moving cautiously and deliberately as he opened the door and stepped out. He put his hands up as he slowly approached the warehouse, his mask indicating who he was much more clearly than if he'd been bare-faced.

 

"I'm here for the deal," he called out, stopping a few metres from the roller door. Several men poured out in response, close to half a dozen training their guns on him as another two frisked him. The empty shoulder holders were glanced at briefly, the sides of his jacket patted, his pockets checked. One of them walked over to Ryan's car and peered inside, raising his eyebrow slightly at the assortment of guns and knives clustered on the passenger seat. The man pulled out a small scanner from his pocket and ran it over the length of the car, searching for any hidden bombs or listening devices.

 

Ryan's mask was unceremoniously torn off and he glared at the man responsible - not that it did him any good, as said man was busy inspecting the mask for any hidden microphones. His phone, and Gavin's, were both taken and summarily crushed into pieces on the ground.

 

All in all, it was an efficient, thorough pat-down. He still had some very well-hidden knives on his person, but they were rather small and in difficult-to-reach places. Even once inside the warehouse, by the time he'd extracted any of them he would have been riddled with holes.

 

"That's mine," he said evenly, pointing with his hands still up at the mask in one of the men's grip.

 

Unsurprisingly, he was regarded with suspicion, but seeing as the mask was clearly just rubber and paint, it was handed back. Ryan moved slowly as he tucked it into his back pocket, glad to have something at least of his usual camouflage. 

 

One of the men waved him forward, the rest still keeping their guns trained on him. He kept his hands up as he moved at a measured pace.

 

As soon as he stepped into the warehouse he saw Gavin, gagged and tied to a chair with another man standing guard over him. Ryan rushed forward, heedless of the armed gang behind him, but thankfully they didn't shoot, smart enough to realise he wasn't trying to make a run for it. He dropped to his knees in front of Gavin, who was struggling vainly against his bonds, terror in his eyes. Ryan catalogued Gavin's state with his fingers, his eyes, everything about him hardening as he took note of the shallow score on Gavin's neck, the much deeper cut in his arm. Both had stopped bleeding for the most part, but they had also left smears of red down his throat and a deep stain on his shirtsleeve, still sticky with its freshness.

 

Gavin shook his head desperately, demanding that Ryan save himself despite the gag still muffling his every word into indecipherability. The violent movement made the congealed blood on his arm crack open, allowing fresh blood to seep through.

 

Ryan gazed at him with an unfathomable look, hands smoothing along the sides of the Brit's jaw. "It's okay, you'll be okay. I love you."

 

He pulled the gag away and crushed his mouth against Gavin's, kissing him like a condemned man.

 

Which, considering the circumstances, he might well be.

 

The younger man wrested himself free. "Ryan, run!" he screamed against the blond's lips, but Burnie was already stepping out of the shadows behind him, the Taser in his hand crackling as two barbed pins sailed towards Ryan's back.

 

Ryan seized, every muscle contracting as several thousand volts travelled between the pins now embedded just below his shoulders. A roar tore itself from his throat and he hit the ground by Gavin's feet with a painful thump.

 

"Stop," Gavin choked, yanking futilely at the restraints holding him back.

 

A seeming eternity later, the Taser stopped its awful crackling. Ryan's body went limp, and when he started to draw himself upright, Burnie pulled the trigger again.

 

The blond moaned, struggling to so much as raise himself onto his elbows once the second bout finished. He collapsed almost immediately.

 

"Stay down," Burnie growled. Ryan unhappily complied, breathing heavily and trembling. "If you move again, I'll Tase you again. Got it?"

 

"Got it," Ryan ground out, voice rough.

 

"Good boy," Burnie said, then shocked him again. Ryan let out an involuntary sound of pain, but wisely remained still. He hadn't heard of many Tasers that had more than three charges, but he didn't want to risk it, especially when there were several other armed men nearby.

 

"Please, you'll kill him!" Gavin begged, and Burnie laughed.

 

"Relax, kid, that doesn't come 'til later, unless he behaves himself." He grinned. "For what it's worth, I hope he doesn't." He looked over at Blaine and jerked his head in the direction of the open door. "Go get the van ready." He then motioned at Aaron to step forward, taking the knife from the dark-haired man before moving towards Gavin. Despite what he'd been told, Ryan desperately tried to move forward, but stilled in confusion when Burnie simply laid the knife down across Gavin's knees and stepped away.

 

"You can run off and tell your boss we've got your rabid dog." Burnie told Gavin. The Brit stared painfully at Ryan, flinching when the occasional tremor rippled through the blond's body. "And tell him he'll need to get in touch with me quick, or I'll just put the Vagabond out of his misery."

 

"Whatever you're asking for, he won't give it to you," Gavin whispered through stiff lips.

 

"You better hope you're wrong," Burnie warned, gesturing at Ryan. "Because otherwise, you'll never see _him_ in one piece again." He jerked his head at the men behind him, and they unceremoniously tore the barbed Taser pins from Ryan's back, hauling the hit man to his feet. Burnie strode forward and yanked Ryan's mask out of the blond's back pocket, tossing it towards Gavin as Ryan's hair, halfway out of its ponytail, fell around his slack face. With a concerted effort, Ryan raised his eyes to meet Gavin's as he was dragged to the back of the van still waiting outside, then disappeared through the open doors. Burnie calmly strolled toward his own car, climbing in without a single glance back and taking off. The driver from earlier clambered into the front of the van, starting the engine as Blaine pulled the rear doors shut.

 

Then, the tires squealed, and Gavin was alone.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’ve been in bed sick all day, but the upshot is that it means I’ve had plenty of time to polish off the next chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> Content warnings for kidnapping and a little more electrical torture (which I realise I should have mentioned on the previous chapter. Let me go fix that real quick).

Gavin strained his fingers towards the knife nestled on his lap, but it stayed tauntingly out of reach. He jiggled his legs inasmuch as he could, trying to move the knife closer to his outstretched hand, but only succeeded in having it fall off his legs completely.

 

"No, no, dammit!" Gavin cried out as the knife clattered to the ground. He yanked ferociously, futilely, at his duct tape bonds, then, with a sigh, gave up on attempting to bust his way free. Instead, he squared his shoulders and began to rock his chair from side to side, building momentum until he toppled over.

 

His head smacked against the concrete and he let out a groan of pain, lying dazed for a few seconds before gathering himself and getting back to the task at hand. The knife had skittered an arm's length away from him, which would have been great if not for the fact that his arms were still tethered to the chair. He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and began awkwardly shuffling towards the knife.

 

The handle caught under his fingers and he dragged it close, struggling the manoeuvre the knife into place one-handed. Luckily, the blade was sharp, and it didn't take too much to slice through the layers of duct tape. Once he'd cut all the way through, he ripped his arm free of the tape, heedless of the numerous hairs that got left behind, then made quick work of the bonds still encircling his other arm and his legs.

 

Ryan’s mask lay on the ground, the empty eyes gazing at Gavin, almost accusingly. He stared back, heart clenching, then gathered it up and crammed it into his back pocket, standing and looking around.

 

The only indication that the van had been there was a set of faint tyre marks. The men he'd seen patrolling the exterior earlier were gone, too. Even as quickly as he'd managed to free himself, it had still been too long for him to catch sight of the van as it left.

 

Ryan's Zentorno sat nestled up against the side of the warehouse, two crushed phones lying a few metres away. Gavin scooped the phones up, recognising them even in this damaged state as belonging to himself and Ryan.

 

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, opening the driver door and tossing the phones into the passenger seat, on top of the assortment of guns and knives Ryan had left there. Thankfully, the key was still in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life when he turned it. He switched on the seldom-used GPS system to figure out where the hell he was, and which of the crew members lived closest.

 

After a few impatient seconds, the GPS informed him he was on Mutiny Road, La Puerta. That meant that of all the crew, Michael was closest, and Geoff was the furthest away. While he obviously needed to get into contact with Geoff as quickly as possible, if the amount of alcohol the older man had been slamming earlier that night was any indication, then it was going to be nearly impossible to wake Geoff without literally screaming into his ear. Unfortunately, the emergency key Gavin had for Geoff's penthouse was back at his own home.

 

Michael it was.

 

The car purred responsively under his touch, but Gavin was too keyed up to enjoy it; he never drove much himself, and though Ryan loved him, he would never have let Gavin drive his Zentorno outside of a situation like this. There was a reason that Gavin left driving to the others, and the reason was that he wasn't very good at it. He managed to reach Michael's place without too much incident, although his heart _did_ nearly stop at one point when he came within inches of knocking off one of the Zentorno's wing mirrors on a passing car.

 

He used the urgency of the situation to justify pulling up in a designated no-parking zone, punching in the door code to gain access to the lobby. It wasn't like there would be any traffic wardens about at this hour, anyway. He ran to the lift, finger jabbing repeatedly at the button for Michael's floor until the elevator announced its presence in the lobby with a soft chime. He lurched in, nearly jarring his finger with the ferocity with which he pressed the button for Michael's floor. He danced agitatedly on the balls of his feet, biting at his lower lip until it bled.

 

The lift stopped and Gavin tumbled out, stumbling frantically towards Michael's door, pounding on it with his fist until it opened.

 

"Gavin?" Michael asked groggily, one eye still sleepily shut. "Jesus, it's like four fucking thirty, I've had _maybe_ an hour's sleep since last time I saw you." He rubbed vigorously at his face, trying to wake himself up a little more, and he frowned at the blood still caked along Gavin's throat and arm. "Wait, what the fuck happened?" He demanded, instantly alert. He grabbed Gavin's arm and dragged him into his apartment, scanning the hallway before locking the door.

 

"It's Ryan, Burnie has him," Gavin gabbled. "He had his goons grab me on my way home, then he used me as bait to lure Ryan in, I don't know what he's going to do to him, oh god." He clutched at his hair, nearly hyperventilating.

 

"Hey, hey, focus, Gavin. You said Burnie took him, you mean Burnie Burns, right?" Gavin nodded. "Shit. Okay, did he, did he have any demands, did he say anything that he wanted you to do for him to give Ryan back?"

 

"Well, he said he had demands, but he didn't say what they were. He said he wanted Geoff to get in touch with him."

 

"Makes sense," Michael muttered, dragging him into the bathroom and pulling out his first aid kit in order to clean up Gavin's wounds. "They used to be part of the same crew, you know."

 

Gavin winced at the sting of antiseptic on the cut on his neck. "Wait, really?"

 

"Yeah, this was ages ago obviously, way before the Fakes were even a thing yet. I don't really know the story behind it, but Geoff left RT to make the Fake AH Crew instead."

 

Michael moved onto his arm, but Gavin pushed him away. "Michael, we don't have time for this! You need to grab your key for Geoff's place and we need to get over there and have him call Burnie and make him give Ryan back!"

 

The redhead wasn't deterred. "Burnie isn't going to do anything until we call, so we might as well make sure that you don't get an infection and have to have your fucking arm cut off."

 

Gavin grabbed impatiently at the cotton pad and the bottle of antiseptic Michael was holding. "I can do it myself, then, just get the bloody key! You don't know how patient Burnie's going to be, he might get fed up waiting and just kill Ryan!" His voice broke a little and Michael relented, handing everything over.

 

"Burnie's a business man, remember that," he reassured gently. "If there's something he wants from us, then it defeats the purpose to just off Ryan."

 

"I'm not so sure about that," Gavin muttered, hissing as he rolled up his stained shirtsleeve and pressed the antiseptic-soaked cotton pad to the cut in his arm. It was deeper than he'd thought. It was even possible that he'd need stitches, which was something Gavin didn't have time for. "Burnie said something about having unfinished business with Ryan." His face creased with anxiety. "Please, Michael, please just get the key, we have to go."

 

Michael left, and Gavin fished a bandage out from the first aid kit, awkwardly wrapping it around the cut. He managed to do a decent job, even though some blood and antiseptic soaked through to the outside.

 

He stood and moved back towards the living room, just as Michael entered with the key.

 

"Did you drive here?"

 

Gavin nodded wearily. "Ryan's Zentorno. It's out the front."

 

Michael snorted. "Man, Ryan's gonna be pissed about that when he gets back. Gimme the keys, I'll drive us to Geoff's."

 

The Brit found himself inordinately grateful that Michael had said 'when', not 'if'. He was trying so hard not to think of the possibility of things going south, it would have destroyed him if Michael had been pessimistic about their chances of getting Ryan back in one piece. He handed over the keys with a weary smile.

 

On the drive, Michael called both Ray and Jack. Jack went to voicemail, but Ray very grumpily answered. Michael quickly explained the situation and told him to head to the base, that the rest of them would join him shortly to formulate a plan.

 

They reached the penthouse with a speed that Gavin would never have dared reach in the Zentorno, and within minutes they had travelled to the top of Geoff's building and let themselves into the penthouse. Michael tried calling Jack again, only to jump when he heard the older man's ringtone close by. The sound was coming from the living room, where Jack was lying passed out on one of the couches, so deep in sleep that he wasn't stirred by the phone ringing from the floor next to him. "I'll get him," Michael said, and Gavin nodded, making his way upstairs to Geoff's room.

 

Geoff was completely naked, sprawled out and snoring on his bed, one hand dangling off the edge of the mattress. Unfazed, Gavin grabbed at Geoff's hand, dragging him off the bed to land on the floor with a thump.

 

It didn't wake him.

 

Gavin knelt down next to him, yelling into his ear, "Wake up, Geoff!" He shook Geoff's shoulder.

 

Geoff slumbered on.

 

Aggravated and impatient, Gavin searched around for something to wake him up with. His gaze alighted on a glass of water sitting on the bedside table. It had obviously been left there by Jack before he'd gone back downstairs to pass out on the couch; Drunk Geoff would never be so kind to Hungover Geoff.

 

Gavin promptly emptied the contents onto Geoff's sleeping face.

 

"What the fuck!" Geoff spluttered, lurching upright, clearly not even sober yet.

 

"Burnie's got Ryan," Gavin said tightly. "Get dressed, we're heading to base to figure out how to get him back. Also, Burnie wants you specifically to call him for demands."

 

Geoff called out to him in confusion, but Gavin was already heading back downstairs. Cursing, mind reeling from the unexpected wakeup call, Geoff stumbled his way into a pair of pants, grabbing the first shirt he saw in his cupboard and shoving it over his head.

 

"Gavin, wait!" he yelled, jamming shoes onto his feet and trying to simultaneously stagger down the stairs. "What the fuck's going on, what d'you mean, Burnie's got Ryan?"

 

"Burnie had me kidnapped on my way home from the bar and offered Ryan to trade himself for me. Ryan accepted, because he's a bloody idiot, and Burnie said that I had to get you to call him and accept whatever demands he has or he'll kill Ryan."

 

"Oh, Jesus," Geoff muttered, wiping at his face.

 

"We're heading to the base so Gavin can try and trace the call when you make it. Ray's already on his way to meet us there," Michael told him. He eyed Geoff shrewdly. "Are you good to drive?"

 

Geoff pinched the bridge of his nose, his vision swaying slightly. "Not really."

 

Michael snorted. "Fucking great. Gimme one of your car keys, then, I'll take you and Gavin can take Jack." He tossed the keys to Ryan's Zentorno back to Gavin, who immediately left and went to make sure the lift would be ready and waiting on the top floor still. Jack trailed after him, offering soft reassurances. Geoff dug through the bowl on the side table by the front door, selecting the keys for his own Zentorno and handing them over.

 

The elevator ride down to the garage was a tense affair, none of them saying a word as they loaded into their respective vehicles and took off in the direction of the base.

 

Michael got himself and Geoff there first. Ray was waiting for them by the door, his greeting subdued as the three of them headed for Gavin's computer room. Jack and Gavin joined them minutes later, Gavin took his seat, giving his knuckles a nervous crack and ignoring the ache settling into the wound on his arm.

 

With a start, Gavin realised it hadn't occurred to him at all to contact Dan and have him help. He shook himself, knowing that calling Dan in now would waste time that they didn't have. It had been almost an hour now since he'd escaped from the warehouse, and even that already felt like an eternity. _He's probably still busy shagging that bloke from the bar, anyway,_ Gavin thought, a trifle bitterly. He booted the computer up and started the necessary programs, nodding at Geoff once he was ready.

 

Geoff nodded back, scrolling through his contact list and selecting Burnie's name.

 

He was glad that he never bothered purging old contacts from his phone. He hadn't spoken to Burnie in years.

 

The phone picked up within the span of two rings.

 

_"Geoff, good to hear from you, buddy, it's been too long."_

 

"What do you want?" Geoff growled. Gavin's fingers blurred on the keyboard, beginning the trace.

 

 _"Wow, everyone's in a bad mood today, aren't they?"_ Burnie chuckled. _"As for what I want, well. I'm sure you know that my territory and yours share a pretty long border. I want the half of your territory that's closest to mine, and an agreement that you won't try to take any of it back."_

 

Geoff thought how damaging it would be to cede so much ground to Burnie. All the lost revenue from businesses in the area, all the lost warehouse storage space, all the safe houses and weapons stashes.

 

His reply was instant. "Done. How long do I have to move my people out?"

 

_"48 hours."_

 

Geoff glanced over to Gavin, silently asking the younger man if he'd completed the trace. Gavin frantically shook his head no; the call was being heavily encrypted. He needed more time. Geoff had to keep Burnie on the line.

 

"And you'll give Ryan back in one piece if they're all out by then?"

 

He could picture Burnie's supercilious grin. _"Cross my heart."_

 

Geoff glanced over at Gavin, still frenziedly hammering at his keyboard. "So I've got your word that you won't hurt him?"

 

Burnie laughed softly. _"Oh, I never agreed to that."_

 

Then the line went dead.

 

~* * *~

 

As soon as the van doors closed, Aaron and Blaine had descended on Ryan, tying his hands behind his back, hobbling his feet, and securing a hood over his head. Even though it went against every fibre of his being, Ryan let them, knowing that the risk of any commotion occurring was too great, and that Gavin was still in the warehouse, surrounded by armed men. If he tried anything, Gavin would almost certainly be killed, and Ryan couldn't let that happen.

 

They drove for what he estimated was at least two hours. The driver was clearly taking a meandering route, circling the same block multiple times and doubling back more than once in order to stop Ryan from being able to keep track of the path they'd taken to reach their destination. Infuriatingly, it worked. By the time they stopped and dragged him out of the van, Ryan had no idea where he was. All he could tell was that, from the flat sound of his boots stumbling on the concrete below him, they were inside in a relatively small place, likely a garage or some kind of loading bay.

 

He was quickly moved down a series of corridors, interspersed once with a trip on an elevator that unfortunately didn't announce what floor they were on. A door was opened and he was taken inside, marching forward several feet before being forced down into a straight-backed chair. The ropes around his wrists and ankles disappeared, only to be quickly replaced with heavy, metal handcuffs that tethered him to the chair. Only then was the hood removed from his head, Blaine and Aaron promptly leaving as Burnie grinned at him from across the room.

 

"You're not an easy man to find, Vagabond," Burnie drawled. "It's only because of Ashley's good work that we were able to even figure out what you look like, no one ever sees you working without that mask of yours. I mean, I get the whole 'secret identity' thing, but seriously, a skull mask? Giving yourself a bit of a complex, if you ask me." His grin widened as a familiar-looking blonde walked in, taking her place beside Burnie. Ryan struggled to remember where he'd seen her before. "Speak of the devil," he murmured, drawing her in for a kiss before returning his attention to Ryan. "You shouldn't've been so eager to get your little hacker boy toy home from the airport when you picked him up," he continued casually, and Ryan felt his insides go cold. Burnie knew where he _lived_. He did his best to keep his expression from changing.

 

"Funny," Ashley began, stepping out of Burnie's arms and folding her own, "That you fall for someone so incapable of defending themselves. Even if your crew ends up pulling through for you, word'll get out that the Vagabond has one hell of a weak spot now." She smirked cruelly. "You'll have to work hard to keep your little boyfriend safe, I'm sure losing him would be _devastating_ for you."

 

It finally clicked. Ashley had been the blonde woman hitting on him at the airport when he'd picked up Gavin after the UK job. Ryan hadn't even realised there was anything more to her actions, too caught up in his anticipation of Gavin's arrival. And then he'd gone and passionately kissed the Brit as soon as they saw each other, unintentionally showing his hand to the enemy. They hadn't known what Ryan looked like until that point, either - he'd always been careful to wear his mask anytime he was working where anyone but the main crew could see him. Now he'd completely blown it, because he couldn't keep his feelings in check. He cursed his own stupidity. His only saving grace was that, for whatever reason, Burnie had let Gavin go.

 

"What do you even want with me?" he spat. "You can't tell me that the only reason I'm here is to be used as a bargaining chip. You could've just used Gavin if that was the case."

 

Burnie's eyes narrowed. "You don't remember what you did, do you?" He made a disgusted noise. "Of course you don't, every murder's the same to someone like you, isn't it?"

 

"In that every kill is just part of my job, yes," Ryan shot back. "If everyone started taking what we do personally, then there wouldn't be anyone left to do the killing. Whoever it was that I killed that you cared about, your beef should be with whoever ordered the hit, not me."

 

"Oh, you were just following orders, is that right?" Burnie's tone was sardonic. "So, what, torturing them for _hours_ before you finally put them out of their misery was part of the job description? Were you even looking for information, or were you just having _fun_?"

 

Ryan still had no idea who, specifically, Burnie was talking about, but that did narrow things down a little. Just over five years previous, before Geoff had recruited him on a permanent basis, Ryan had been going through the tail end of a rather extensive dark period. Doing what he did for so long, and spending so much time on his own, was bound to mess with anyone's head. It had taken him a while to get used to being part of a team after going solo his whole career, and although he was still relentlessly thorough in everything he did, it didn't quite carry the sadistic edge it once had. Ryan had done many unnecessarily twisted things during that time, and he wasn't exactly proud of a lot of what he'd done.

 

"I'm not that person anymore," he said lowly.

 

"That doesn't make them any less _dead_ ," Burnie snapped at him, eyes threatening to burn right through Ryan's. "And you seriously don't _remember_ what you did?"

 

"You haven't given me any information to work with," he replied evenly, and Burnie grabbed onto Ryan's forearms, fingernails biting in hard enough to bleed, leaning in with a savage snarl.

 

"Matt Hullum. Gus Sorola. Seven years ago, you murdered my two oldest friends."

 

Something clicked in Ryan's mind and, oh. He remembered torturing and killing the two men that Burnie was talking about now.

 

He remembered very clearly.

 

This was not going to go well for him.

 

Burnie pulled away, standing tall with something close to gratification on his face. "You know who I'm talking about now, don't you?"

 

"…Yes," Ryan admitted eventually, gaze downcast, already bracing for the worst.

 

"I'm sure you'll be glad to know that I'm not going to do to you what you did to them," he said, and Ryan tried not to let his relief show too palpably. "Well, you'll be glad at first, anyway. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get you to the point of begging me to do that instead." His gaze sharpened to razors once more. "I'm going to draw this out as long as I can. I'm going to _enjoy_ this."

 

The corner of his mouth quirked cruelly, and he stepped behind Ryan. The back of Ryan's neck crawled with the desire to turn and see what Burnie was doing, but he didn't give in, keeping his sight zeroed in on the opposite wall as the older man dragged a rather crude-looking device, consisting mostly of a large battery hooked up to a series of wires with clamps and electrodes attached, set into a rubber-coated framework to keep everything in place. Burnie picked up one of the clamps and snapped the teeth experimentally, the metallic clack ringing out sharply in the small room. A small, satisfied smile settled on his face and he set the clamp back down before returning to whatever was set up behind Ryan, the sound of muttering and rummaging making Ryan itch to turn around.

 

Ashley cleared her throat from across the room, arms still folded as she held up a pair of scissors in Burnie's direction.

 

"Oh. Thanks, sweetie." Burnie quickly crossed over to give her a quick kiss. She obliged him with a smile. "You think of everything, don't you?"

 

She shrugged, smile spreading as she handed over the scissors. Burnie looked over his shoulder at Ryan with a grin of his own. "Ashley likes to watch, you know. Isn't she the greatest?"

 

"She wasn't all that great when she was trying to seduce me," Ryan replied levelly. "I remember the last thing I said to her at the airport being 'fuck off'."

 

Ashley raised an eyebrow at him. "Seeing as you're gay, that was a bit of stacked deck to begin with."

 

"Not to mention," Burnie added, advancing on Ryan once more, "She was able to figure out who you were, which is better than anyone else in this game."

 

"That was pure luck," Ryan shot back. "There was no way she could have known that it'd be me that would pick Gavin up."

 

"I still figured it out, though," Ashley called from across the room, wearing a smug expression. "And it still puts you exactly where you don't want to be."

 

And for all his back-talking, Ryan had to admit she had a point. The scissors descended, and he did his best not to flinch.

 

A few quick snips and a slight tug had Ryan's shirt completely removed, skin prickling with goosebumps as cold air brushed along it. Burnie moved back towards the battery. Despite himself, Ryan could feel his heart-rate begin to pick up even more, and Burnie languidly approached him, clamp in one hand.

 

Ryan grunted as the clamp closed cruelly around his nipple, and Burnie grinned diabolically at him.

 

"What's wrong, Vagabond?" he simpered. "You can think of it like a little BDSM, if you want." He attached the second clamp as Ryan tried to jerk away. "Or are you not into that?"

 

Staring off to the side, Ryan refused to meet the older man's eyes as an image of Gavin forced itself to the forefront of his mind, and Burnie's face lit with a delighted grin. "Oh, I think you _are_."

 

Ryan remained silent, even as Burnie attached another clamp to match the first.

 

"That could make things a _lot_ of fun," Burnie mused, hand resting pensively on his chin. Ryan's head snapped up to watch him, suddenly wary. When he'd entered the world of criminal activities, Ryan had accepted that there was a certain amount of physical damage he was going to sustain over the course of his work. He'd had no illusions that his job left him with a very small chance of dying peacefully, and he was okay with that.

 

But what Burnie was insinuating would happen to him during his current imprisonment had definitely not been something he'd signed up for.

 

The older man laughed in his face. "Relax, man, I do have _something_ of a moral code. I'm not doing anything sexual to anyone if they're not cool with it." His hand rested uncomfortably high on Ryan's thigh, his voice dipping as he continued, "But if you _are_ up for that, I'm happy to skip the torture and I can take you to bed instead. Let me tell you, I'd get a _lot_ of satisfaction having you underneath me, having you beg for me, having you _scream_ …" Ryan tried to shift away as Burnie's hand crept even higher, his face getting closer. "I can promise you won't regret it," he murmured, eyelids half-hooded, but Ryan just glared stonily past him, and past Ashley as well, who was still smirking. Even if he _had_ been in any way inclined to agree, he was fairly certain that Burnie would have likely done both regardless. Probably would have filmed it, too, and given a copy to his crew just to humiliate him further.

 

With a disappointed sigh, the older man pulled back, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You're missing a real good opportunity here," he warned, and Ryan continued to glare. The brunet shrugged. "Your loss. Guess I'll just have to make you lose your pride the old-fashioned way."

 

He returned to the battery, gathering several of the electrode wires. "See, I gave Geoff my word that I'd keep you in one piece," he told Ryan conversationally, sticking the electrodes in place along Ryan's torso and arms. "But, like I told Geoff, that doesn't mean I'm not going to hurt you. I mean, you deserve it, after all." Burnie stepped back with an approving nod, admiring his work. Ryan could only be grateful that Burnie hadn't attached the clamps in other, more demeaning places.

 

"All right, looks like we're ready to go. Ashley?"

 

The blonde stepped forward and offered him what looked like a small, simple remote, a switch on the side and a dial on the front seeming to be the only operable functions. He flicked the switch on and, without ceremony, twisted the dial to halfway.

 

Electricity raced through Ryan's veins, painfully reminiscent of being Tased, except that it didn't end after five seconds. Aborted noises of pain forced their way past stiff lips as his body convulsed and trembled, the shock snapping at every piece of metal in close contact with his skin. He gasped with relief when the flow was finally cut off, sagging and panting. Little spasms still quivered through his muscles.

 

Burnie's grin was all teeth.

 

"Oh, this is going to be _fun_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stupid side note: I wrote the line "Wake up, Geoff!" and I've had the Wiggles stuck in my head since


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Life continues to kick my ass, but I’ve managed to scrape together enough spare time to get a chapter done. Enjoy!
> 
> Content warnings for kidnapping and torture (yes, still). Sorry.

There were several seconds of silence after the call ended, the failed trace blinking with an error message on the screen.

 

"I hate this," Gavin hissed into the quiet, fists clenched as he shoved his chair away from the desk. "I hate that I got _used_  like this. I was a bloody damsel in distress, and Ryan had to come get me out even though he must've known it was just a trap for him." He shook his head. "I'm so useless. I'm  _less_  than useless, this never would've happened if I wasn't here. Ryan would've been fine if I wasn't here."

 

"No one's thinking like that," Geoff insisted softly. "I know Burnie, I know he'll have been biding his time with something like this. If not you, then he would've found some other way to get to Ryan. Guy holds a grudge for a really long time. Trust me, whatever the reason Burnie has for wanting to take Ryan, it wouldn't have mattered who was in the way." He chose not to mention that he had a very good idea as to why Burnie had taken Ryan, because he knew that if he was right it spelt very bad news. "It's not your fault."

 

"Why does it feel like it is, then?"

"Gavin, listen to me." He spun the younger man's chair around and grabbed him by both shoulders, staring deep into his eyes. "It'll only be your fault if you don't do everything you can to get him back. We can't trust that Burnie will play fair with this deal. All of us are ready to fight for him, but we can't do that if we don't know where he is. We're counting on you for that. He's counting on you." He gave Gavin a gentle squeeze. "Let's show Burnie he messed with the wrong hacker, huh?"

 

Gavin let out a shaky breath and pulled out Ryan's skull mask, which had still been tucked in his back pocket. He stared at it for a moment before propping it up next to the monitor, willing the empty gaze to spur him on.

 

There wasn't much hope for tracing the call now, he knew, despite Geoff's optimism. While most calls these days were pretty much instantly traceable, Burnie had clearly installed some high end software on his phone to prevent any third parties from using it to get information about his whereabouts. What little data Gavin had been able to retrieve during the call only told him that Burnie was somewhere in Los Santos, which they knew already anyway. Even if he did figure out where the call had been made from, there was no guarantee that it was the same place Ryan was being kept. Still, they did at least know that physically finding Burnie would almost definitely mean finding Ryan. Whatever the 'unfinished business' was between the two of them, it was clear that Burnie was the kind of man that dealt with such things personally.

 

Knowing that at least trying would be better than nothing, Gavin turned to his keyboard, squaring his shoulders and getting to work.

 

He paid little attention to the movements of the rest of the crew, the other men flitting in and out as they helped co-ordinate what was essentially an evacuation. Someone wheeled in a portable cot at some point, setting it up in an empty corner, seeing as the computer room had become something of a base of operations. Gavin barely spared it a glance. He didn't notice the silence that filled the room, the other members of the crew all off working to get things organised.

 

He did notice, however, when Dan walked in at around 11 o'clock, seeming confused to find Gavin holed up in the computer room on a Saturday morning. Dan had showered and changed from the clothes he'd been wearing the night before, and he certainly looked well-rested, so it seemed that the guy he'd hooked up with had just been a quick fuck before he'd returned to the room he was using at the base.

 

"What's all this, then?"

 

"Ryan's been kidnapped by Burnie Burns," Gavin said shortly, keeping his focus on the screen before him. He knew that if he saw anything like hope cross Dan's face, it would spell the end of any later attempts of reconciliation between the two of them. He didn't want to have to deal with that on top of everything else.

 

"What, the leader of the RT Crew?" Dan said dumbly, stepping closer. "Why?"

 

"Ransom. He'll give Ryan back if Geoff cedes half of his territory to him."

 

"And did Geoff agree?"

 

Gavin glared. "Of course he did."

 

Dan made an appeasing gesture. "Sorry, I shouldn't have doubted that. I know how close-knit this crew is. You know, most crews I've worked with wouldn't give up that much, even for one of their own."

 

"Yeah, well, the Fakes aren't most crews."

 

Dan nodded, gaze dropping, only to catch sight of the bandage wound around Gavin's arm. "What'd you do to your arm?"

 

With a soft sigh, Gavin closed his eyes and said quietly, "Couple of Burnie's goons got the drop on me when I was walking home from the bar. That's how the RT Crew got their hands on Ryan in the first place. They used me as bait. I got a little dinged up in the process."

 

"Oh, B..."

 

"Doesn't matter," Gavin said tersely. "Only thing that matters is figuring out how to get him out of there alive." So saying, he returned his attention to the keyboard.

 

Dan's eyes flicked now to the screen, frowning at what Gavin was typing. "You trying to decrypt a call?"

 

Gavin grit his teeth. "'Trying' is the operative word. Not having much luck. But there's nothing else I can do."

 

"Can I help at all?" Dan asked softly, and Gavin paused, surprised that he was asking rather than just immediately trying to take over. The dark-haired Brit smiled wryly. "I can be sensitive sometimes, too."

 

"Well, two heads are better than one," Gavin replied, gesturing in the direction of Dan's usual chair. "Just give me a second, I'll send over a log of what I've done so far for you to read. No sense you redoing anything I've already tried."

 

"So, what info  _do_ you have?"

 

Gavin grimaced. "Not much. We figure that Burnie'll be somewhere in Los Santos, because he's got a crew to run still. And we know the number, 'course, 'cause Geoff still had it on his phone. Other than that, nothing."

 

There was a few seconds of silence. "…That's not a whole lot to work with. Have you tried calling the number back?"

 

"It goes straight to voicemail. Probably switched off. Geoff only knows Burnie's personal number, he doesn't know the one he uses for business."

 

Michael walked in, dark circles under his eyes. He looked wrecked. So did Gavin. "Any luck yet?" he asked. Gavin shook his head wearily. Michael switched his attention to Dan. "You helping, then?"

 

"Doing my best."

 

The redhead levelled him with a serious stare. "You better." He crossed over to the cot set up in the corner, climbed on without even bothering to take his shoes off, dragged the blanket on top of himself, and promptly passed out.

 

Dan returned his attention to the log of Gavin's attempts to trace the call, scouring the contents and trying to come up with alternative solutions. He came to the same conclusion that Gavin had - getting anything useful out of what little they had was going to be a nearly impossible task.

 

Still, there was the slimmest of chances that their work would pay off, so he got stuck in.

 

Hours passed and Geoff and Jack both returned, the latter bearing copious amounts of takeaway. Michael was roused by the smell and fell upon the food, whereas Jack all but had to force-feed a burger to Gavin to get him to eat it. Even then, Gavin ate quickly, mechanically, washing it down with the closest caffeinated drink. He was back to the keyboard within minutes.

 

Geoff tapped on Dan's shoulder and jerked his head to the side, his expression guarded. He waited for Dan to move out of Gavin's earshot before speaking. "Look, I don't need to tell you how much Gavin needs to be the one to crack this, but if you figure something out before he does…"

 

Dan looked over at Gavin, who was entirely absorbed in his screen, fingers flying across his keyboard. "To be honest? There isn't all that much difference between the two of us. Do I have an edge over him in skill? Yeah, I'd say I do. But we both know that he's got way more desire to succeed."

 

The older man didn't relax. "Really, that's what worries me. Knowing what's on the line might make him panic."

 

"If I make a breakthrough, I'll try nudging him in the right direction instead of just telling him outright," Dan said, and finally some of the tension seeped from Geoff's shoulders.

 

"I appreciate it. Either of you getting anywhere?"

 

"Not really." Dan deflated a little. "We've got next to nothing to work with. But it's not like we can just sit around waiting for the off chance that Burnie'll call again before the deadline."

 

They worked for another hour, the other crew members drifting in and out once more. The surge of energy Gavin gained from the sugar and caffeine peaked and he began to crash, eyelids drooping, movements a little more sluggish and uncertain.

 

Geoff noticed the downward spiral Gavin was going into and decided to step in.

 

"Gavin, you've been through a lot," Geoff told him gently. "You haven't slept since yesterday, it's only going to get harder to focus if you don't take a break. Dan's here too, he'll keep going. Why don't you take a nap?"

 

Gavin rubbed at his tired eyes, his head dipping slightly for a moment before he shot back upright. "No. I've gotta…" He continued tapping uncertainly at the keyboard, face drawn into haggard lines.

 

"C'mon, you're practically falling asleep anyway. There's a cot set up right over there, no one else is using it right now. You'll feel better after. If you let yourself go on like this, then you're going to get sloppy and slow and you might miss the opportunity to save Ryan's life."

 

The younger man flinched, looking up at Geoff with tortured eyes. "Geoff, I have to."

 

Geoff squeezed his shoulder. "You can. I know you can. But only if you're at the top of your game, which you're not right now. You need rest, Gav."

 

With a sigh, Gavin relented, dragging himself upright. "Wake me if you get anything, Dan."

 

Dan nodded from his seat. "'Course, B."

 

Stretching his back with a groan, Gavin stumbled over to the cot and clambered on. Geoff picked up the blanket that Michael had knocked to the floor when using the cot earlier and draped it over Gavin, the Brit offering him a small smile of thanks.

 

With a jaw-cracking yawn, Gavin closed his eyes, fully expecting that he'd be far too keyed up to actually sleep. Within the span of a few minutes, though, the hum of the computers, the steady clack of Dan's fingers on the keyboard, the soft murmur of Geoff's voice as he resumed making call after call, lulled Gavin's exhausted, overworked brain into a deep and thankfully dreamless slumber.

 

~* * *~

 

Gavin jerked upright, the cut on his arm throbbing dully, somehow sensing a shift in the mood of the room even in his sleep.

 

Everyone was staring at one of Gavin's monitors.

 

More specifically, at the video playing on one of Gavin's monitors, depicting Ryan, bound to a chair, and Burnie, circling him like a shark before looking directly into the camera.

 

Burnie's voice called out through the speakers.  _"Afternoon, gentlemen! I thought it'd be nice to get in touch, let you know I'm keeping to my end of the bargain."_

 

Wires snaked from the multitude of electrodes attached to Ryan's body, for all the world making him look like a deranged science experiment. The clamps around his nipples had bitten in so deep that he was bleeding, thin rust-red trails tracking down his front. His wrists and ankles, still enclosed by metal cuffs, were blistering from the treatment he'd been receiving, and the skin there was broken and bleeding in several places as well, from when he would jerk involuntarily and grate his flesh against the harsh metal edge.

 

_"As promised, dear Vagabond here's still all in one piece. More or less."_

 

"Oh god," Gavin choked, horror-stricken.

 

Dan spurred him to action. "Gavin, c'mon, this is a live video, not a recording! If we can trace it back to where it's being streamed from, we'll find him!"

 

Gavin scrambled off the cot, spilling into his chair. His hands were flying over the keys within seconds.

 

_"I mean, having to keep him whole does limit my options a bit, but I've always enjoyed finding creative solutions."_

 

Geoff reached for the volume controls on the speaker, but Gavin shoved him away, expression pained. "No," he said tightly. "We might miss something important."

 

"Gavin…"

 

"I said no!" the Brit retorted furiously, then returned to his keyboard. Geoff steeled himself reluctantly and stepped back.

 

 _"Vagabond's been a lot of fun, let me tell you,"_ Burnie continued, voice loud over the sound of frenzied typing. _"It's always so much_  work  _to see the tough ones crack. Makes it so much more rewarding once we finally get there. And we've been making decent progress, haven't we?"_  Burnie turned the dial to maximum without warning, and Ryan jerked in the chair, entirely unprepared for the sudden blast of electricity shocking through his body. His captor twisted the dial back and forth randomly, never completely turning it off. Unable to stop himself, Ryan roared in agony, body spasming, while Burnie looked on with a serene expression.  _"Just look at him dance,"_  he murmured, finally setting the dial back to zero. Ryan's head lolled, panting heavily.

 

Gavin froze for a moment at the sound of Ryan's screaming, then grit his teeth, forcing himself to focus despite everything in him that wanted to find somewhere quiet to cry.

 

Burnie only gave Ryan a brief moment of respite before lazily twisting the dial once more. Ryan howled, tears springing involuntarily to his eyes and streaking down his cheeks, dribbling down his neck and mingling indiscernibly with the sweat beaded on his skin. A large stain grew at the front of his pants as the electricity coursing through him finally overrode his bladder control, releasing its contents. When Burnie finally let off the dial again, he slumped bonelessly against the chair, exhausted and humiliated.

 

Gavin couldn't watch. He had to concentrate on tracing the feed.  

 

He couldn't stand watching Ryan be tortured.

 

It was hard enough just hearing it.

 

But what was worse was when the screams finally petered off, and Burnie said,  _"Well, I've got some other stuff I need to get to work on, but this has been fun. I'll be in touch later."_

 

The screen went black a second later, the stream terminated.

 

"No!" Gavin cried out, shooting up from his chair with his fists clenched. The tears that were normally so easy for him to keep at bay were suddenly streaming down his cheeks. Geoff went to give him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, but Gavin shrugged him off, throwing himself back down into his chair and burying his head in his hands. He ground his palms into his eyes, hard enough that it felt like they were going to burst.

 

"Gavin," Geoff said softly. "We've still got time. He's going to contact us again before we hit the deadline, that's just the kind of person he his. He's going to want to gloat as much as he can."

 

"I need some fresh air," Gavin said, voice tightly constricted, and he stalked out of the room. No one stopped him from leaving, though Jack made a motion like he was going to follow.

 

Geoff shook his head. "Leave it, Jack. Gavin's barely left this room since this whole thing started. He needs a chance to reset himself a bit." He dragged a hand through his hair with a sigh. "C'mon. We've still got plenty of work to do."

 

~* * *~

 

"I think they would've enjoyed the show, don't you?" Burnie asked Ryan amicably, merely shrugging when he didn't receive an answer. "Technology is a beautiful thing. I can make you crew watch you be taken to pieces in real time."

 

Ryan remained silent, his hair, long ago loosed from its ponytail, damply sticking to his face in bedraggled strands. Beneath the surface, however, his frazzled mind was working overtime. If what Burnie was saying was true, that mean the footage of his torture was being livestreamed to the rest of the Fakes. While Ryan had nowhere near the technical skills that Dan and Gavin possessed, he knew enough to know that that meant that there was a digital trail that led to wherever it was that he was being held. Gavin would find a way to figure out where he was, and rescue him.

 

Burnie laughed. "You actually think I'd be stupid enough to broadcast this location directly to your crew? Your little hacker boyfriend has a reputation, you know. I've more than prepared for any attempts he makes to find you." Burnie stepped closer, a mocking smile on his face. "Can't you just see him, rattling away at his keyboard, trying not to cry while he can hear you screaming, knowing that he's a failure and just as powerless as you are…" He laughed again. "It's cute, really. He must be trying  _so hard_  to find you. My guys are better, though. He won't get through what they've set up. Geoff'll have to play by the rules if he wants you back."

 

~* * *~

 

Burnie left periodically, both for necessities like eating and sleeping, as well as being called away on matters pertaining to the workings of his crew. Ashley drifted in and out as well, but never stayed if Burnie wasn't there, leaving Ryan to languish in solitude. Ryan capitalised on this time by snatching what sleep he could, mostly because he had precious little else to do, but also because he didn't doubt that Burnie would find a way to keep him from sleeping through the night.

 

He was, unfortunately, right.

 

"Well, it's getting late, I think I'm gonna have to call it a day," Burnie told him, cracking his back with a satisfied sigh. He grinned at Ryan. "After all, I've got Ashley waiting for me at home, I wouldn't want to keep her. Offer still stands for you to join in, by the way."

 

"Fuck you," Ryan spat back at him, his voice raw from screaming.

 

Burnie shrugged, unfazed. "Suit yourself. Oh, before I forget," he said, with an air of casualness that instantly had Ryan on edge. "There's an extra little something I had programmed into this remote." So saying, he moved the switch on the side of the remote to the centre setting.

 

Ryan spasmed as a blast of electricity raced through him, weak enough that it only made him grunt with the unexpectedness of it.

 

"That'll go off every thirty seconds or so until I switch it off in the morning," Burnie informed him, and Ryan sagged a little at the prospect of the long hours ahead of him. The shock had been more than strong enough that it would be impossible for him to sleep through it. Burnie laughed. "Have a good night!" he said, then left Ryan alone to deal with his exhaustion and pain.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaand the misery continues!
> 
> Content warnings for kidnapping, torture (water torture, specifically), and a bit of an emotional breakdown.
> 
> I promise this fic will get back to being about boning at some point?

Gavin stormed through the base, not really paying attention to where he was going, and eventually found himself at the door to the garage. Figuring that his feet had carried him here for a reason, he stepped inside, eyes instantly falling on Ryan's black Bati 801, the helmet with the skull etched into the visor grinning up at him. Gavin strode over to the bike, picking the helmet up and staring into the skull's eyes, seeing his own reflection in the dark surface. After a few seconds, he put it on, smelling foam and oil and the undefinable, lingering scent of Ryan. He breathed deep, his exhale shaky, then straddled the bike, starting it up and hitting the clicker for the garage door. The door smoothly rolled up, and Gavin eased out of the garage, squinting at the bright sunshine even through the tint of the visor. 

He made his way out of the city proper, and once he hit the highway, he gunned it, surpassing the speed limit within seconds. He didn't go quite as fast as Ryan would have done - he wasn't skilled enough to avoid an accident at those sorts of speeds, and he knew it - but he still went more than fast enough that the wind stung at his exposed skin, roaring past the helmet and ripping at his shirt like it was trying to tear it off of him.

Knowing that there was no one to hear him, Gavin screamed and swore at the top of his lungs, words absorbed by the helmet. He cursed his own inability to find Ryan, he cursed Ryan for having to play the hero, he cursed Burnie for taking him in the first place.

All this yelling brought Gavin a certain sense of clarity. 

Geoff was right. This wasn't his fault.

Ryan needed him.

Filled with resolve, Gavin took the first exit he could find, swinging the bike around and heading back to base.

~* * *~

"Morning! Hope you've had a good night's rest," Burnie greeted sunnily. Ryan glared at him through the sweat-caked strands of hair hanging over his face, jolting with a soft groan as the shock timer went off for the umpteenth time.

The night had not been kind to him in the slightest.

Honestly, the amount of fluid he'd lost, both through sweat and the embarrassing incident where he'd pissed himself, was seriously beginning to worry him. No one had given him anything to eat or drink since he'd been kidnapped. Dehydration was becoming a serious risk. He licked his lips reflexively, and Burnie watched the action with an attentiveness that Ryan didn't like at all.

"You look like you could use a drink," Burnie said at length. Ryan said nothing, wary still of the conniving glint in the older man's eyes. He jerked once more as the shock timer sent electric current coursing through him, but otherwise he didn't move.

Burnie didn't seem deterred by the fact that Ryan wasn't playing along. He just pulled out the remote, seeming to contemplate twisting the dial, before switching it off completely, tucking it away again. Ryan felt the anticipatory tension drain away, if only for a moment. Then Blaine and Aaron stepped into the room, Burnie nodding to them and leaving.

The two men were silent as they undid the metal cuffs surrounding Ryan's wrists, yanking him up into a standing position. Blood rushed downward, leaving him light-headed and unresponsive as Blaine dragged his hands behind his back and fastened them together with a rough length of rope. It burned against his damaged wrists.

Only once his hands were secured did the cuffs around his ankles get released. Ryan staggered forward a few steps, alarmed at how weak he'd become, and so quickly. His stomach protested at its lack of recent sustenance and his legs protested after more than twenty-four hours of inactivity. Blaine and Aaron each grabbed one of his arms, and Ryan had no choice but to stumble along between them, struggling to maintain his footing. 

They escorted him into another room similar to the one they'd just left, complete with a camera set up against one wall and a smiling Burnie leaning against another. In the centre of the room sat a low metal tub filled with freezing cold water, studded with ice cubes to keep it that way. Ryan knew exactly what Burnie intended to do, and he was not looking forward to it.

Still, anything had to be better than being electrocuted until his insides were baked.

Burnie jerked his head at the tub. "Get him ready. Be quick about it."

Ryan struggled, but there wasn't much point. Aaron and Blaine hauled him over to the tub, forcing him onto his knees in front of it, and Burnie pushed away from the wall, circling behind him.

"Get the camera rolling," Burnie ordered, and the two other men stepped out of frame, Blaine moving to set up the livestream, giving Burnie a nod once everything was ready. 

"I gotta admit, I'm a little disappointed." Burnie addressed the camera lens, red light blinking. One hand fisted itself almost casually in Ryan's hair. "I thought, 'Geoff has that whole honour code thing going for him, I'm sure he'll give up a few measly blocks of territory to get Vagabond here back safe and sound.'" He gave the blond's head a little shake. "Guess I just need to be a little more convincing."

Ryan snarled and twisted, but Burnie's grip on his hair was firm, pulling his head back. On his knees as he was, and with his hands secured behind him, there was no escape. The cold, cold water gleamed uninvitingly.

"I'm sure everyone knows how this works, but I'll explain just in case," Burnie drawled, giving the camera a dazzling smile. "I'm going to hold his head underwater for a couple of minutes, he gets let up to catch his breath, rinse, repeat." He yanked on Ryan's hair, making him grunt, and further exposing the vulnerable curve of his throat. "He'll fight at first, but something like that gets exhausting quickly. He's not gonna be able to help accidentally breathing in some of that ice-cold water, and it's going to _burn_ when he chokes it into his lungs. That, plus the repeated partial drownings, well… let's just say he's not going to be having a whole lot of fun." Burnie grinned savagely at the lens. "But I'll stop if you just agree with my terms. What I'm asking for isn't _that_ ridiculous, is it? It's not like you couldn't recover from a loss like that. This is one of your core crew members on the line, after all."

Ryan struggled valiantly against Burnie's grasp. "Don't give this fucker anyth-" His words were cut off by Burnie slamming his face into the water. The sudden, stinging shock nearly made him inhale in surprise. Only his lightning-fast reflexes saved him, and even then his lungs already ached with the need for air, as he hadn't had a chance to take a breath before his head had been dunked. He thrashed, dimly able to hear Burnie talking to the camera once more, the actual words muffled into indecipherability by the water all around him.

After what felt like an eternity, he was wrenched upright, air gasping hoarsely into his lungs, barely filling halfway before he was shoved under again. 

This process was repeated several times, to the point where he wasn't able to stop himself from accidentally ingesting some of the icy water into his lungs. He emerged from the tub coughing and spluttering, chest filled with fiery pain. Then he was slammed back down again, not given even a moment of respite.

Before too long, the constant oxygen deprivation left him too weak to even put up a decent fight against Burnie's grip, only some mild, pathetic flailing proving that he was still conscious each time he was shoved under. Words filtered incomprehensibly into his ears, too muddled by the water and his own exhaustion to make any kind of sense.

As much as it all hurt, though, Ryan knew it would have been a thousand times worse to see Gavin endure this torture instead of him. He thanked every star in the sky that Burnie had let Gavin go instead. The thought that by going through this ordeal, he was essentially sparing Gavin the same fate, made everything that was happening far more bearable. Ryan shuddered to think how quickly he'd have cracked if he'd had to watch Gavin be taken apart.

Finally, mercifully, Ryan was pulled from the water and not immediately pushed back under. At this point, he could barely keep his eyes open, his face almost entirely numb. Each breath was like inhaling fire. Talking was far beyond him. Burnie tossed him onto the ground beside the tub like a broken toy, and Ryan trembled with the cold, instinctively curling up as best he could with his hands still tied behind his back. Vaguely, he was aware of the fact that Burnie would have placed him in clear view of the camera, so that his crew would be able to see how pathetic and helpless the Vagabond had become. Everything in him screamed to get up, to show defiance, to put on a brave face, but he was tired and chilled to the bone.

If his hands had been free, maybe, he might have eked out the strength to drag himself upright, but as it was, all he could do was lie there and feel useless.

"That's all we've got time for today, folks," he heard Burnie say, the older man's voice sounding like it was reaching Ryan through a tunnel. "We'll see you next time."

The little red light on the camera blinked off, Aaron and Blaine leaving the room. Ryan didn't have the energy to do anything but watch them leave, only his eyes moving as Burnie crouched next to him.

He just wanted to sleep. He was so tired.

"Good performance you put on today. Impressive, really. Must've been at that for at least an hour, my arms were starting to get sore."

An hour. Was that all? It had felt like so much longer. The shudders wracking Ryan's body seemed to grow a little more intense.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. Geoff caved and accepted the offer as soon as I gave it. I would've had to kill you outright if he'd refused, you realise that, right? It would've been nice and clean and painless. But, him accepting meant I got to play with you for a while before offing you. If you think about it, really, _Geoff's_ the reason that you've gone through all this."

Ryan mustered enough strength to throw out a look that clearly said he thought Burnie was an idiot.

"You know," he continued conversationally, ignoring Ryan's reaction completely, "I'm sure you have the ego to think that this whole thing is about you. Hate to break it to ya, it really is just as much about Geoff. I haven't forgiven him for what he did."

Ryan's brow furrowed incrementally.

"All four of us used to run in the same crew, you know - me, Geoff, Matt and Gus. All a big happy family." His expression soured. "Then some things happened, and yeah, there was a bit of bad blood between me and Geoff, but honestly don't know how he can _stand_ working with you, knowing what you did to the others, after everything we went through together. I still can't fucking _believe_ that he would hire you. It's like he thinks it's all just water under the bridge."

The blond tried to say that it hadn't been anything personal, that Geoff had understood that, but he could barely manage the weakest of croaks.

"He probably thinks that I'll do a fair trade, for old time's sake, and for the sake of my reputation. But I'm willing to get my name a little muddied if it means I get to _destroy_ both of you in the process." He grabbed Ryan roughly by the hair, lifting him up so that his spine arched away from the floor. A drop of water traced its way down between Ryan's brows and dripped off the end of his nose, but he was so numb with cold that he didn't even feel it. "I'm going to destroy everything Geoff's built. You crew'll come here for the deal, and I'll make you watch them all _die_ as they try to save you," he snarled. "I'll drag that little twink of yours in here, let him see how _pathetic_ you've gotten, then I'll kill him right in front of you. Then, once they're all _dead_ because of _you_ , I'm going to give you the mercy of a bullet in the back of the head."

He dropped Ryan back to the ground and he slumped there, everything aching. Unconsciousness finally sank its claws into him, dragging him unwillingly into the bottomless dark. 

~* * *~

_ "I was sure he'd give up a few measly blocks of territory to get Vagabond here back safe and sound. Guess I need to be a little more convincing." _

Geoff's hands tightened, knuckles white as his bones pressed up against his skin. "What the fuck's he talking about, I already said yes! We're nowhere near the deadline, we're moving our people out of there as quick as we can!"

"But Ryan doesn't know that you've already agreed to his terms, and he'd have no way of knowing the time," Jack told him softly, urgently. Dan and Gavin were still hammering away at their keyboards, but Michael and Ray were both out of the room, luckily avoiding the latest livestream. "Burnie's probably keeping him in the dark, keeping him demoralised."

That wasn't all there was to it, though, and Geoff knew it. "He's not going to let Ryan go," he murmured, quietly so that only Jack would hear, face creased with anxiety.

Jack went very still. "What do you mean?"

Geoff looked uncomfortable. "Burnie's got a major grudge against Ryan," he admitted. He glanced over at Gavin, but the Brit was intensely focused on the computer screen in front of him, resolutely refusing to look over at the monitor that displayed Ryan's ongoing suffering. The Brit still flinched every time that Ryan was pulled gasping and coughing out of the water. "About seven years ago, Ryan tortured and killed some people close to Burnie. He took hours to do it. They were friends of mine, too, and yeah, I definitely hated the Vagabond for it for a while, but I eventually accepted that he was just doing what he was being paid to do. It broke Burnie, though, he just went into a complete downward spiral. We hunted for the guy who had ordered the hit in the first place, but Burnie was completely reckless, he didn't care what the consequences were as long as he got revenge. The RT Crew started to crumble around us, he nearly got me killed more than once. Seeing how little he valued my life compared to getting his own form of justice… After we found the guy and killed him I had to call it quits. That's when I started the Fake AH, and Burnie built RT back up on his own after I was gone. I didn't realise that he was still blaming Ryan so much for what happened." He grit his teeth, cursing his own stupidity. "I should have, though. God, I'm I fucking moron."

"…You never told me that before," Jack said eventually.

"I'm not even sure Ryan remembers," Geoff said softly. "You know how bad of a headspace he was in when he first started working with us, and he's never even come close to bringing it up to me. I know he doesn't like even thinking about some of the stuff he did before he joined us."

"But why would Burnie just let Gavin go, then? He clearly knows that Ryan loves him, or he wouldn't have used him as bait in the first place. I'm obviously not saying I'm not glad he didn't, but if he's doing this to get back at Ryan for killing his friends, wouldn't killing Gavin make more sense, revenge-wise?"

"I think that Burnie probably wants to kill us all to get back at Ryan," Geoff replied simply. "Get back at me, too, because I'm sure he sees what I did as me abandoning him. Plus, it's a power play, showing us just how easily he can decide if one of us lives or dies."

Jack was quiet a moment. "So it's a trap, then," he said quietly. "Either we go to Burnie for the trade and get slaughtered, or we call off the deal, and then watch Ryan die."

"Gavin'll crack the feed before it comes to that," Geoff replied, determined. "We'll just need to make sure that we have enough people with us to overcome whoever Burnie's got guarding wherever he's keeping Ryan." He smiled grimly. "And we've got a whole lot of our people who're very pissed at RT right now for having them kicked off their turf."

~* * *~

Dan hit a few final keystrokes and sat back with a groan, curving his spine away from the chair and feeling most of the vertebrae crack. Things were getting desperate - the program he'd just started up was a Frankenstein-esque hybrid of various bits and pieces of tracking software that he'd thrown together over the past few hours. It was brutish and inelegant, but he was out of good ideas. There wasn't anything he could do besides let his program run, anyway, and hope that it would yield results. If he tried to do anything else, it would just divert CPU away from the program, and he might even actively sabotage his own work by mistake.

He pushed away from the desk, rubbing at his aching eyes with his aching fingers. It was like he could still see the outline of the screen behind his eyelids, could still feel the keyboard beneath his fingertips. He knew Gavin couldn't possibly be faring better.

Geoff gaze snapped over to him. "Why're you stopping?" He jabbed his finger at the screen, where Ryan was ineffectually struggling against Burnie's grip. "Ryan's still being fucking tortured, if you hadn't noticed!"

Dan made a placating gesture. "I've just set a program to run to try to get through this bloody Fort Knox encryption. It's a long shot, and if I try and do anything else at the same time I'll most likely just decrease the odds of it working."

The older man subsided, almost seeming to wilt with exhaustion. He'd barely slept more than Gavin had. "Sorry. I just…" He trailed off, looking over to the feed, where Ryan was having his head shoved underwater for the umpteenth time. The blond was putting up an alarmingly small amount of resistance.

"I know." Dan forced a wry smile. "I think everyone's got a right to be a bit on edge, really." He stood from his chair, lower back down aching from being seated for so long. He stepped back, stretching out his complaining muscles.

Gavin still tapped ceaselessly at his keyboard, face lined with anxiety. The confidence and conviction he'd bolstered himself with during his spin on Ryan's bike had been whittled down by their persistent lack of progress, until he was even more desperate than before.

Dan looked away, not wanting to see Gavin in such a state.

Then, something in Dan's mind suddenly clicked and he remembered an old exploit he'd uncovered almost a year prior. It had been an interesting little function buried in the outgoing data for a live video. He'd forgotten it up to this point because working with encrypted live footage this way simply wasn't something he came across often. Usually when he did so, he already knew exactly where the camera was, and the issue was figuring out how to get the footage, rather than the other way around.

He paused, watching Gavin's frenetic typing once more, and a nastier course of action wormed its way into his mind.

How easy it would be, rather than working with the information he'd just remembered, to simply allow Gavin to continue his futile, increasingly frantic and error-laden coding, to so dramatically reduce Ryan's odds of survival. How easy it would be, once Ryan was out of the picture, to be able to comfort Gavin in his hour of need. 

How easy it would be to just do nothing.

Dan had told Geoff he'd take over only if he thought he could do better, after all. He could simply say he'd already offered Gavin all of the possible solutions he could think of.

Gavin's fingers trembled and he mistyped repeatedly, the screen filling with broken gibberish. Tears stung at his eyes, blurring his vision. "I can't-" His voice wobbled, his entire body starting to shake, his gaze turning helplessly to the video of Ryan. "I can't-"

"I can," Dan said grimly, pulling Gavin's chair, with Gavin still in it, to the side, taking his place at the keyboard. He didn't have time to spare Gavin's feelings - if the video was any indication, Ryan was nearing his limit for what he could handle, and there was no telling how long Burnie would keep the video going past that. This would be much quicker than explaining to Gavin what he needed to do, quicker than going to his own computer and having to shut down the program still running there. His fingers flew, registering only as a blur, determined to find the source of the feed.

Two tension-fraught minutes later, he straightened, fingers halting on the keyboard.

"Got it," he said, rattling off the address. Geoff immediately leapt to action, calling Ray and Michael, ordering them back to base to gear up. Ray had relocated what seemed like half the armoury to one corner of the computer lab, stocking it with body armour and a good number of the guns and ammo cases left over from the heist preparation. The heist seemed like it had been an entire lifetime ago. It was odd to think that it hadn't even been a week.

Jack strode over to the makeshift armoury, donning his body armour with practiced efficiency. Guns and magazines and cartridges disappeared into every available pocket. Geoff followed suit, sending out a group text message to every member of the crew that would be participating in Ryan's rescue.

Gavin sat frozen in his seat, his own inadequacy crushing him down and squeezing his insides. 

He'd failed. He hadn't been able to do it. If Dan hadn't been there, working to save someone he'd already expressed his dislike for, then they would have had to go into the deal blind, potentially leading to their deaths, and Ryan's.

His eyes turned back to the video, his breath shakily leaving him as Burnie announced that the stream was ending, Ryan curled up and trembling on the floor. Gavin flinched as the feed was cut off.

Michael walked in just in time to see the screen go dark, to see Gavin, numb and forlorn, staring at the space where Ryan's image had been.

"We'll get him, boi," Michael assured, stepping close and clapping Gavin on the shoulder, finally startling the Brit into action. He got up, moving towards the stock of guns and armour.

Geoff blocked his way.

"You're not going, Gavin."

Gavin clenched his fists. "What're you on about? We found where he is, of course I'm bloody well going."

Geoff shook his head, a sympathetic expression on his face. "No, you're not. I know that you want to help, but the best way for you to do that is stay here, for you and Dan to monitor the situation from here, and update us if anything changes." He reached out, hands heavy on Gavin's shoulders as he stared him directly in the eyes. "Gavin… this might not go well. In all reality, it could go really, really badly. If that does happen, then you know that the last thing Ryan would want is for you to be there."

The Brit glared. "You're benching me because you're worried I'll get hurt? What's your excuse for sending in everyone else in, then?"

"We're all a lot more experienced in this side of things. Even when we do have you out in the field, it's in a non-combat capacity. I know it's harsh to say it, but you'd be a liability. Besides, this is a risky operation. We'll have the element of surprise, but we won't have the upper hand. If we do come out on top, and get Ryan back in one piece, if I let you come along you can be sure that Ryan would kill me anyway for putting you in unnecessary danger, when you're way better served here."

Gavin finally backed down, but did so begrudgingly. He didn't mention the fact that Geoff had sidelined Dan, as well - he knew that while it was, in part, to stop Gavin from rushing off to join the rescue team, it was also because Dan had just proved, once again, that he was better than Gavin. Having his failure openly acknowledged when the stakes were this high would have destroyed him, so instead Gavin pressed his lips together in a hard, thin line and tried not to think at all. 

Ray silently filtered in, his usual joking nature vanishing before the seriousness of the situation. Wordlessly, he collected what he needed from the stockpile, strapping on his body armour and collecting as many guns and as much ammo as he could carry.

"Here." Geoff pressed a burner phone into Gavin's palm. "I got this ready earlier. I've got the number for this on my phone, so does the rest of the crew in case I don't make it. I've put all of us on speed dial. Call if anything changes. One of us will call you if we get him out."

Gavin curled his fingers around the phone and fixed Geoff with a determined gaze. "I'll wait for your call, then."

Geoff offered him a grim smile, then departed, the rest of the crew leaving with him.

"I'm so useless," Gavin whispered once they were gone, clenching the phone so hard his knuckles went white. He stared at a random spot on the ground, eyes glassy and body trembling with the effort of not crying.

"Gavin, don't," Dan said gently. "It doesn't matter which of us was the one to crack it, it just matters that we figured it out at all. Besides, I don't think I'd've gotten there if I hadn't seen how hard you were working. I know how much he means to you, I wasn't about to let Burnie take that away from you."

"Let's just keep an eye out in case the stream goes live again," Gavin muttered, retreating back to his seat, slipping the phone into his back pocket.

Dan sighed, but he allowed it, both of them lapsing back into silence.

All they could do was wait.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my laptop was out of commission for about a week because a recent system update went and corrupted the hard drive, plus it had a couple other issues. so the bill for that ran upwards of $400 which wasn't really money I had to spend, but, well. I need my laptop. Luckily, all of my fic stuff is backed up to the cloud, so I didn't lose anything there, but I've had to reinstall everything and it's taking forever.
> 
> But anyway, you don't want to hear about my technological woes, on to the chapter!
> 
> Content warnings for references to the torture in previous chapters, mild physical violence, blood, and character death.

Geoff took the lead as they approached the building, an unassuming, abandoned office tower that looked like it had been constructed sometime in the 70s. Michael, Jack, and Ray were close behind him, as well as several lower-ranking members of the crew that were pitching in on the rescue effort.

 

"Okay, everyone," he said, voice low and clear over the short-range earpieces they were all wearing. "We've got one of our own being tortured in that building over there. Burnie thinks he can do that and get away with it, that the Fakes are just a bunch of limp-wristed idiots who'll just let him walk all over us and take our territory. And you know what I have to say about what he thinks?" He paused. "Fuck. That."

 

There was a quiet, determined rumble of agreement from the gathered men.

 

"So, I'll give everyone one more rundown of the situation. Burnie doesn't know that we've figured out where he's keeping Ryan, and the deadline for giving Ryan back isn't until tomorrow. He might not be expecting us, but that doesn't mean that we can automatically assume that he hasn't prepared for that possibility. Everyone needs to stay on high alert. Everyone know your teams?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Everyone, remember to report to your team leaders, team leaders report to me. All clear?" Another group nod. Geoff nodded back. "Alright, then. Let's go get what belongs to us."

 

The group took a winding path that kept them out of sight of the office complex for the most part. It was early afternoon, and even if it was a largely abandoned area, there might well still be unwelcome eyes on the lookout for any trouble.

 

They reached one of the fire doors on the east side of the tower, Ray stepping forward to jimmy the lock so that they could gain entry with minimal sound. Geoff and Michael led their teams inside, the rest following Ray as he moved towards the western fire door.

 

Geoff dispersed his team members over the first few floors, Michael taking his own team all the way to the top, so that each team would work their way towards each other and meet in the middle.

 

He was halfway through clearing the first floor, yet to encounter anyone, when the sound of a scuffle whispered through the comms, Jack grunting in exertion as he presumably grappled with someone. Then, he let out a sound of pain, cut off at the end as his comm went dark.

 

"Jack?" Geoff murmured experimentally, but there was no reply. "Fuck," he hissed. Of course, the silence didn't necessarily mean that Jack had been killed, but it was the most likely explanation, and it was a heavy blow to take so early into the operation.

 

"Okay, boys, Jack's gone dark, which probably means he's gone down. That means we've got Jack to get even for, too. We're going to kill Burnie for this, everyone got it?"

 

There was a general chorus of assent, and they all pressed on through their respective floors.

 

Various voices reported floors being clear. Conflict was minimal, but that made sense - Burnie had been overconfident in the electronic security of the video feeds he'd been sending to the Fakes, and as such had forgone having robust physical security. After all, having a high amount of traffic going in and out of what was meant to be an abandoned building would be far more noticeable than the minimal presence that was in place. If word had gotten out about an unusual amount of activity in the building, it would have defeated the purpose of masking the video signal to begin with.

 

Still, they did suffer further casualties, men reporting injuries or simply not reporting at all. The team leaders of the incapacitated men made mental notes of their last reported position so that, outcome permitting, they could go back and retrieve them afterwards.

 

Geoff finished his sweep of the first floor and moved up the stairwell, heading for the next available unexplored floor. He eased the door open, only to see someone down the hall whip around to face him. Geoff lifted his pistol and fired almost before he even recognised the man as one of Burnie's long-time hires. The silencer on his pistol muted the sound of the gunshot to a soft whoosh, incongruous with the sudden spray of blood that erupted from the man's head as the bullet caught him between the eyes. "Contact, fifth floor," he murmured to his team, stepping into the hallway, moving quietly. As he approached the fallen body, though, far louder gunshots tore through the wall, one bullet nicking the back of Geoff's left arm and lodging itself in his body armour. He cursed, ducking low as he moved forward.

 

A blonde stepped out of the doorway ahead of him gun drawn, and Geoff recognised Ashley. They'd been good friends once, before Geoff had split off from the RT crew to form the Fakes. She seemed just as shocked to see him.

 

He took advantage of her surprise at seeing him, rushing her. She fired, but her aim was wide, the bullet whizzing past his face. He got within arms' reach and slammed the butt of his gun against her wrist, forcing her fingers to open, her gun clattering to the floor.

 

Recovering, Ashley fought back, landing a good blow on Geoff's temple that left his ears ringing. She reached forward to snatch the pistol from Geoff's grip, but Geoff's free hand shot out and latched around her wrist. He twisted her arm behind her back, pressing the barrel against the nape of her neck. "Give me your other hand, too," he ordered, and she reluctantly complied. Her wrists were slender enough that Geoff was able to almost completely encircle them with one hand.

 

"Where's he keeping Ryan? Take me."

 

"Fuck you," she hissed through gritted teeth.

 

"C'mon, Ash. I've known you almost as long as I've known Burnie. I don't want to kill you, so please don't make me."

 

Her shoulders sagged slightly. "He's two floors up. Burnie knows you're here by now, he'll be holed up with Ryan in there. You rush in, he'll kill Ryan before you've got a chance to stop him. He's a sore loser like that."

 

"That's why you're coming with me," Geoff replied grimly, marching her out of the room and in the direction of the stairs. He addressed the rest of the crew. "I've got Ashley, she's taking me to Ryan. Anyone near the fifth floor east stairwell?"

 

 _"Twelfth floor, west,"_ Ray reported. _"Gimme a few minutes, I can get there."_

 

 _"I'm on the tenth floor, east side,"_ Michael replied.

 

"Head down the stairwell to the seventh floor, Michael, I'll meet you on the way up. Tell your team to keep covering their floors until they meet my team. My team, keep heading up. Ray, keep sweeping your side too, we don't want anyone blocking our exit." He addressed Ashley as they reached the end of the hall, releasing one of her arms. "Get the door, Ash. Don't try anything stupid."

 

Begrudgingly, Ashley opened the fire door, then returned her hand to Geoff's grip, allowing him to shove her up the stairs. Michael was already waiting for him in the seventh floor stairwell. They exchanged nods, and Michael opened the fire door, shielding himself behind it while Geoff pushed Ashley out into the hallway. Two muscular men stood at the ready outside a door further down the hall. They snapped around at the creak of the fire door opening, but hesitated when they saw Ashley stumbling along with her hands behind her back, someone clearly holding her hostage.

 

Raising the muzzle of the pistol just over Ashley's shoulder, Geoff fired at them, capitalising on their indecision and killing them in seconds.

 

"That where he's keeping Ryan?"

 

Ashley snorted despite the hot muzzle pressing once more against the back of her neck. "Obviously."

 

"Michael, do a quick check, make sure there isn't anyone else on this floor."

 

Michael nodded and raced off, light on his feet and slowing down when he reached a corner before disappearing around it. He updated Geoff on his progress as he went, and within minutes, he returned with an all clear.

 

"Okay. Stay behind me, Michael, keep out of the room until we get more of an idea of how we can get all of us out in one piece."

 

"Got it."

 

"Ashley. If you'd do the honours."

 

"How can I refuse?" She replied dryly, turning the handle and stepping inside. Geoff moved close behind her, ensuring that as much of his body was obscured by hers as possible.

 

He peered around Ashley's head just enough to figure out Ryan and Burnie's placement in the room.

 

Ryan was strapped in to the chair again, thankfully without all the electrodes and wires this time. Geoff could see where they'd been, though, reddened circles puckering his skin. Ryan's jeans were still wet from the earlier water torture, as was his hair, dangling in limp strands from his hanging head, which Burnie was casually holding a gun to.

 

"Gotta say, I'm disappointed, Geoff. I thought we had a deal."

 

Geoff couldn't help laughing. "Yeah, like you were going to stick to your end."

 

"That hurts, Geoff," he said sardonically. "I thought we were friends."

 

"We were, a long time ago. Then you got so hellbent on getting revenge for Matt and Gus that you nearly made me join them. More than once. I didn't leave RT because I didn't care about them anymore, I left because you were going to get me killed if I didn't."

 

Burnie dug his gun a little more firmly into Ryan's head. Ryan didn't move, thoroughly unconscious. "If you still cared about Matt and Gus, then why'd you hire their murderer?"

 

"Because, like I said, Ryan's not the reason they're dead. He was just the instrument for it. He's the best at what he does, that's why I hired him."

 

Burnie's aim changed, whipping from Ryan to Geoff. Or, more accurately, to Ashley, still in front of Geoff and shielding him from Burnie's view. Her eyes went wide.

 

"You're so full of shit, Geoff. He's good at his job? Seriously? That's you're justification? I can't fucking believe you."

 

"Burnie-" Ashley's voice trembled as she stared down the barrel of the gun.

 

"Sorry, Ash, you're in the way."

 

He fired, and Ashley cried out as the bullet tore through her, passing through her lung and perfectly lining up with Geoff's heart, only to impact uselessly against the body armour hidden under his suit jacket. She sagged from the pain, then her hands snaked out, clamping around Geoff's right arm and tearing the gun from his grasp before he - or Michael, still waiting in the hall - could react.

 

Burnie gave her an incredulous smile. "Nice _work_ , ba-"

 

She shot him twice in the head, killing him instantly. "Go to hell," she muttered, wincing as she pressed the palm of her free hand against the wound in her side. In her other hand, she aimed the gun skyward, removing her finger from the trigger. She addressed the room at large as Geoff retrieved his pistol from her unresisting fingers. "Any beef I had with you guys died with him, okay?" she said. "Geoff, I know you left RT because of the way he treated you after Matt and Gus died, I think it's pretty clear that I know how you feel. I know it's asking for a lot, but I'd really appreciate it if you didn't kill me."

 

"Not gonna kill you, Ashley. I mean, you basically took care of our problem for us." He glanced down at Burnie's cooling corpse, twin streaks of blood dribbling from the two entry wounds in his forehead. More blood spread in a pool behind him. Michael moved into the room and headed straight for Ryan.

 

The corner of her mouth quirked upward. "Can't take all the credit. I'm sure one of you would've got around to it if I hadn't." She glared down at the body by her feet. "I can't _believe_ that fucking cocksucker shot through me to try and kill you. After everything I did for him." She looked halfway resolved to spitting on his corpse, but at the last minute seemed to think better of it, shaking her head and turning away. She took a step towards the door and her face crumpled in pain. "Would I be pushing my luck to ask you to get me to a doctor?"

 

Geoff smiled. "Nah, we can take care of that for you. Ryan's getting top billing, though." He moved closer to Michael, who was attempting to lift the unconscious Ryan out of the chair on his own.

 

Ashley regarded him warily. "I didn't do anything to Ryan myself," she said. "That was all Burnie."

 

Geoff didn't look at her, voice straining as he heaved Ryan upright. "No, you just watched and let it happen." Ryan stirred slightly, but was so clearly exhausted that he almost immediately slipped back under.

 

Ashley edged closer to the door, despite knowing that she wouldn't make it far in her current state. Geoff held up his hand.

 

"Hey, like I said. You solved our problem. I'm paying you back for that, at the very least. Though I do recommend that once you get yourself patched up, you bail before Ryan gets back on his feet." He lifted one hand to his ear reflexively as he spoke over the comm. "Ray, how's your side of the tower going?"

 

 _"Got someone sweeping what I'm pretty sure is the last floor now. Marcus, you done with your floor yet?"_ There was a pause, presumably as Ray waited for a reply. _"Yeah, we're all good this side, Marcus just met up with one of Jack's guys."_

 

"Good. We got Ryan, he should be okay."

 

 _"Yeah, I heard."_ Ray let out a small burst of relieved laughter. _"Go team."_

 

Geoff turned to Ashley again. "Should we expect any more company coming our way?"

 

She shook her head. "Next changeover wouldn't have been for another hour. They're sure gonna be in for a surprise when they get here."

 

Geoff let out a small laugh. "No kidding. Alright, we better make our move, then." He readjusted his grip on Ryan's arm, stepping forward.

 

Ashley nodded, moving away from the door to give them space to go through. Jack approached from down the hall, relief and concern clashing on his face as he saw Ryan suspended in Geoff and Michael's arms, but he was able to discern from their expressions that he was simply unconscious, not dead.

 

"Jack, thank fuck," Geoff said. "What the hell happened, you just went dark on us!"

 

Jack rubbed at the side of his head, grimacing. "Some asshole clubbed me in the ear and broke my comm. I've basically just been wandering around the place trying to find y-"

 

 Ashley stepped into the hallway and Jack shouted out in alarm, clearly thinking that she was sneaking up behind his friends to attack them.

 

Geoff waved him off. "Relax, Jack, she's on our side. More or less."

 

Jack didn't relax. "How can you be sure?"

 

"She killed Burnie."

 

Still the bearded man maintained his suspicion, despite being more confused than before. "Why?"

 

"Well, Burnie tried to shoot me through her, and she took offence to that."

 

Finally, Jack loosened up. "I'm guessing she'll need medical attention, then?"

 

"Yep. We're taking her with us to Caleb."

 

"Have you told Caleb that?"

 

Geoff gave him an exacerbated look. "When would I have told him that? Besides, doesn't matter, he'd have already been preparing for the worst, that all of us would be seriously injured when we rocked up on his doorstep. Little dweeb'll probably be over the moon that he's only got two patients to deal with."

 

 "Rest of the building's clear, by the way," Michael informed Jack. "Only our people left now, any other RT members that were here have all run off."

 

"That's what you get with loyalty that comes from fear," Ashley said, a thin sheen of sweat covering her face as she stumbled slightly. Jack let go of his last dregs of suspicion and went to steady her. "Soon as they realised that Burnie was heading the losing team, they bailed." She snorted. "Looks like actually caring about your crew like you guys do is the winning strategy. Go figure."

 

"Speaking of," Geoff muttered, guiltily remembering the rest of the members of his crew strewn throughout the building. He issued orders to the uninjured members of team, organising for them to retrieve their wounded and fallen comrades from whatever floor they were currently on.

 

Within ten minutes, everyone was gathered outside, one of the cars they'd used to reach the office complex filled with the injured and dead low-rankers. They were lucky enough that there had only been only one casualty, now nestled peacefully in the passenger seat, the four other seats occupied by men thankfully without immediately life-threatening wounds. The least injured was the one driving, and he wasted no time in heading off in the direction of another doctor well-trusted by the crew.

 

That left two more cars to fill. Wisely, they separated Ryan and Ashley, laying each of them down across the back seat of their respective vehicles, just in case Ryan woke up on the trip over and took objection to Ashley's presence.

 

Jack took the wheel of the car Ashley was in, Ray sliding into the passenger seat. Michael clambered into the passenger seat of Ryan's car, deferring control of the vehicle to Geoff.

 

Geoff pulled out his phone as he got in. There was someone he needed to call who he was sure would be very glad to hear that Ryan was alive.

 

~***~

 

Dan watched silently as Gavin paced back and forth. Geoff and the others had been gone for well over an hour, and Gavin had become more and more keyed up with every minute that passed.

 

A soft buzzing emanated from the phone tucked in Gavin's back pocket, making both of them jump. Gavin fished it out with clumsy fingers, barely reading the name on the screen before slapping it to his ear. "Did you get him? Is he okay? Is-" Dan rose, straining to hear the voice on the other end of the line without intruding on Gavin's personal space, but it was too quiet.

 

Gavin sagged with relief. "Thanks, Geoff," he murmured, eyes closing as he ended the call.

 

"They get him?" Dan asked softly.

 

"Yeah, they did." Gavin gave him a tired smile. "He was passed out when they got to him, but Geoff reckons that once they get him to Caleb he'll be okay."

 

Dan tried to push down the disappointment that swelled within him at the news, berating himself for being so petty.

 

He started in surprise as Gavin's slender arms circled around him.

 

"Thank you," Gavin mumbled into his chest, then, just as quickly, he let go, holding a slightly bewildered Dan at arm's length. "I know how easy it would've been for you to not step in when I couldn't crack the feed. You saved Ryan's life, B."

 

"Well, like I said. I care about you, Gav. And I know you care about Ryan. I had to step in, you needed me." He didn't mention how close he had come to doing nothing.

 

Gavin smiled. "I really mean it, Dan. Thank you." He gulped and blinked, forcing back tears of joy. "Jesus, how can I ever repay you for this?"

 

The corners of Dan's lips lifted tentatively. "Could we maybe try and be friends again? I'd hate for you to hate me forever for me being such a selfish moron."

 

A small burble of laughter escaped Gavin's throat. "Well, as long as you can admit it." He slapped the other man on the shoulder, grinning. "I think I can manage that, B."

 

Dan dragged him into another hug. "Thanks for trusting me," he muttered gruffly. "I know with the way I've been acting, that must've been hard to do."

 

"Can… can you drive me to Caleb's place? I'm about ready to pass out, I reckon I'll fall asleep at the wheel if I tried to take myself."

 

Dan smiled, pulling back and giving Gavin a soft squeeze on the shoulder. "'Course, B. Anything you need."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Drop-kicks an almost 7,000 word chapter at you*
> 
> WHAT'S UP BITCHES, BETTER BUCKLE UP THOSE SEATBELTS BECAUSE IT'S TIME FOR SOME BACKSTORY
> 
> Can you tell I've had a lot of caffeine today
> 
> Content warnings for references to the torture detailed in previous chapters, medical stuff/needles in case that wigs anyone out, discussions of shitty childhoods, past general homophobia and past internal homophobia, mentions of violence and murder, and mental instability.

Ryan was still mostly out of it when they reached Caleb's medical practice. Geoff and Michael supported him once more, essentially carrying him to the back entrance. Jack followed with Ashley, keeping a cautious distance from Ryan, just in case he became more lucid. Ray took up the rear, always uncomfortable in places that even remotely resembled hospitals.

Caleb met them by the back door, accompanied by an earnest-looking young man with cropped dark hair and serious eyes. "This is Trevor Collins," Caleb informed them, ushering everyone inside. Trevor gave them all a little wave. "He'll take care of Ms Jenkins, here. I figured it'd be best to have two medical professionals onsite, considering what you've been up to. I'm glad it wasn't worse."

Trevor took Ashley's free arm and steered her towards one of the operating rooms, Jack still supporting her on the other side. "Ashley, right? You can call me Treyco, if you like, a lot of people do. Now, just step this way, we'll get you all patched up..." His voice faded as Caleb directed Geoff and Michael towards the other operating room. Ray peeled off and headed for the waiting room, not even his concern for his crewmember overpowering his complete aversion for going into an operating room. Ryan was still largely useless, unable to do much to help his crew members as they lifted him up onto a cot. 

Caleb gently shooed the others away from Ryan. "Michael, Geoff, give me some space, let me take a proper look at him." 

The two men obeyed, if a little reluctantly, backing up and leaning against the wall. Jack quietly joined them a few moments later, and the trio watched in silence as Caleb bustled about, washing Ryan's body as best he could with the man unconscious, setting up a saline drip, disinfecting his blistered ankles and wrists, neatly wrapping bandages around the lacerated flesh. The clothes Ryan had been tortured in were put in a disposal bag, replaced instead with hospital pants, his chest left bare to give the irritated skin where the electrodes had been attached room to breathe.

Ryan hadn't roused yet when Gavin stumbled in a few minutes later, breathing a little raggedly, clearly having run the entire way through the building to reach them. He went still at the sight of Ryan, barely conscious and swathed in bandages, the IV line snaking down to the crook of his elbow. Dan appeared behind him a few seconds later, but gave Gavin the distance he was sure the other man needed.

Caleb finished sticking a sterile pad over the cuts on Ryan's chest caused by the clamps Burnie had placed there, then stepped away. Gavin closed the short distance to the cot, instinctively reaching towards Ryan's hand, but, seeing the bandages around the older man's wrists, placed his hand on Ryan's upper arm instead, squeezing gently.

Ryan didn't stir for a minute or two, the only sound being Caleb packing away his medical supplies and the steady tick of a clock on the wall. Finally, though, Ryan's eyes cracked open, seeming at least somewhat lucid. He looked up at Gavin and mustered a smile.

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes," he murmured, voice raspy and dry. Caleb appeared by his elbow with a cup of water, lifting it to Ryan's lips. Ryan leant forward as much as he could, not quite able to summon the strength to prop himself up on his elbows just yet.

"So are you," Gavin replied, relieved laughter in his tone.

Ryan seemed to become a little more aware of his surroundings, his gaze drifting over to his other crew members. "What happened?"

Geoff took the lead. "I don't know if you knew, but Burnie was streaming you being tortured to us over an encrypted connection. Gav and Dan managed to crack it, figure out where you were, and the rest of us swooped in for the greatest rescue mission of all time." Gavin squirmed a little guiltily at the suggestion that he'd helped find Ryan, knowing full well how inept he'd been. Ryan wasn't cognisant enough to notice.

"Burnie?" he asked.

"Dead," Geoff told him, and Ryan grunted.

"Wouldn't've minded killing him myself. Who did?"

"Ashley, surprisingly enough. She and I got in a little scuffle, which I won, and I made her take me to you. Burnie was with you, and he figured the best way to kill me was to shoot through Ashley. Unfortunately for him, I was wearing a bullet-proof vest. Then, uh… Ashley kind of grabbed my pistol off me? And shot Burnie in the head for shooting her."

"She dead, too?"

"No. We took her to a doctor. Least we could do, seeing how things would've gone way worse if she hadn't killed Burnie."

Ryan was silent for a few seconds. "…She's here, isn't she?"

Geoff regarded him steadily. "Like I said. Least we could do."

Ryan tried to force himself upright, upper body shaking with the effort, rage contorting his features. Gavin tried to soothe him, pressing him back down against the cot, and Ryan was still too weak to resist.

"Ryan, you'd probably be dead right now if not for her," Jack reminded him, tone firm. "Pretty shitty payback for saving your life for you to go and kill her. Besides, you're really not in the state to try. Even with a bullet in her gut, she'd beat you in a fight right now."

The blond subsided, but did so begrudgingly. "I hope it hurt," he grumbled, feeling petty.

"I'm sure it did," Jack replied evenly. 

Geoff motioned at the gathered crew members. "Now, I'm sure you and Gavin want some time to yourselves. We'll get out of your hair."

The room emptied, Caleb gently tugging the door after himself. "I'll be right down the hall in my office if you need anything," he promised, then shut the door.

There was a visitor's chair sitting in the corner, and Gavin dragged it over, taking a seat and gingerly running his thumb over the knuckles of Ryan's right hand. "I'm glad you're alright," he said softly.

"Me too. Reminded me not to get kidnapped again, it's bad for my health."

Gavin managed a small hiccup of laughter. "And your state of dress. The sterile pads on your chest look like really shitty pasties."

Ryan lifted his head a little, and to his chagrin he had to agree - the white squares of cotton taped over his nipples looked ridiculous. He let his head fall back down. "Glad that I've never been into using nipple clamps with sex, I definitely don't want to use them now."

The Brit let out a quiet hum of amusement, but his smile quickly faded. "It was so awful, having to watch you get tortured like that. I'm so sorry that I got you dragged into that."

"Hey." Ryan flipped his hand within Gavin's grip and gave the younger man's fingers a soft squeeze. "It wasn't your fault. If it was anyone's, it was mine - I killed some people for a hit that Burnie was really close to, about seven years ago now. He'd been waiting for revenge for a while. If he couldn't use you to get to me, he would've found another way. Actually, no, fuck it, it's Burnie's fault. That motherfucker tortured me just for doing my goddamn job." He forced his breathing to calm and gave Gavin another squeeze. "I'm sorry for the danger you got put in because of me." He smiled. "Besides, you figured out where Burnie was holding me, I'd say that makes us about even."

Gavin didn't meet his eyes, wordlessly stroking the side of Ryan's palm with his thumb. Still worn out from his ordeal, Ryan let his eyelids drift shut, cracking a huge yawn. Gavin immediately jerked to his feet.

"I'm so sorry, you must be exhausted after everything, you need to rest, I should go-" he gabbled, and Ryan's eyes flicked back open, giving him a soft smile.

"Gav, only go if you want. I can't tell you how glad I am that Burnie didn't come after you again while he had me. I was so scared he'd get you again and torture you in front of me," he admitted. "I'm so glad he can't touch you anymore." He bit his lip, then added, "I'd really like it if you stayed. At least until I fall asleep. If you want." He let out a small laugh. "I promise it won't take long."

"Okay," Gavin said quietly, sitting back down, secretly glad that Ryan wanted him to stay. Ryan's eyelids fluttered down once more, his breathing evening out, asleep in a matter of minutes. Their fingers were still entwined, and Gavin stared at their entangled hands for a few moments before his gaze drifted up to Ryan's face, soft in sleep. His lashes fanned out over the bruise-like hollows under his eyes, and he looked almost vulnerable, especially when paired with the bandages wrapped around his wrists and ankles, which didn't sit too well with Gavin. A blanket was neatly folded on the end of the cot, and Gavin stretched the fingers of his free hand out, snagging a corner and shaking the blanket out so he could cover Ryan with it.

He could have watched Ryan sleep for hours, content with the knowledge that the older man was safe and on the mend, but his own lack of sleep was finally catching up to him. Geoff came to check on them half an hour later, only to find them both deeply asleep, Gavin's head pillowed on Ryan's shoulder and arm draped protectively over his chest. Smiling softly, Geoff backed out of the room, fetching a spare blanket from Caleb's office to drape over Gavin before leaving them both in peace.

~* * *~

Gavin woke an indeterminate amount of time later, neck and back stiff from sleeping in an awkward position, but overall, feeling a lot less exhausted than he had over the past few days. Ryan seemed to sense him stirring, and he roused himself as well, blinking sleepily for a few seconds before comprehending his surroundings.

"Good, wasn't a dream," he murmured, pushing himself upright. Caleb had come in and removed the saline drip at some point while they both slept, and he was unfettered in his movement. Upon realising this, he immediately swung his legs out over the edge of the cot. Gavin was quick to place cautionary hands against his shoulders.

"Careful, Rye. Don't push yourself."

"I'm fine," Ryan assured, sliding forward and planting his feet on the floor. His knees buckled almost instantly, and Gavin's breath left him in a rush as he struggled to support the weight of a full-grown man.

"Ryan," he wheezed.

"Sorry, lemme…" Ryan braced one hand against the side of the cot and managed to straighten up. His footing was shaky still, but once he'd compensated for his currently reduced physical capabilities, he was able to stay mostly upright. "Okay. I'm ready to go home now."

Gavin glanced at the door. "You should really let Caleb check you over first…"

"Gavin." His voice came perilously close to cracking in a rare display of vulnerability. "I just want to go home."

"…Oh, okay. That's fine, Rye, we can do that." He looked towards the door again, this time noticing a stack of clothes sitting on the bench-space next to it. "Oh, look, one of the guys must've left something for you to change into, just sit down again for a second, I'll go grab it for you."

Ryan eased himself back down onto the cot, sliding off the hospital pants he was currently wearing. Gavin presented him with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for some band Ryan had never heard of. Clearly, the clothes were from Geoff's limited selection of casualwear. The sweatpants were a little big, nothing that tightening the drawstring couldn't fix, but the shirt wasn't designed to contain a muscular physique like Ryan's. Gavin's laughter at the sight was poorly concealed. Disgruntled, Ryan said, "Can we go now?"

Caleb walked in at that moment, likely having heard their voices from in his office down the hall. "Ryan, great to see you up and awake."

"Thanks, Caleb, I appreciate your help, as always." Ryan had gotten very familiar with the inside of Caleb's practice during his years with the Fakes. "We'll get out of your hair." He heaved himself to his feet, only staggering a little before Gavin helped him correct himself.

Caleb frowned at him. "I'd recommend you stay and let me make a proper assessment of your condition…" He began half-heartedly, but gave up, knowing that there was no point.

"I'm just dehydrated and I've got a couple minor wounds, I know how to recover from that. I'll come back if I start passing out or if anything starts to look gangrenous," Ryan replied, brushing him off and, with Gavin's assistance, heading for the door. Caleb sighed and followed after.

They moved out into the waiting room, where Geoff was passed out in a chair, snoring softly. His suit was rumpled, bulletproof vest still on underneath his suit jacket. He startled awake as they entered, and he looked blearily confused before his brain finished waking up. He beamed sunnily at the two men. "Ryan, you're up, fantastic! Has Caleb given you the all clear?"

"Yes," Ryan said. Behind him, Caleb shook his head.

Geoff gave Ryan a stern look. "Ryan…"

Caleb sighed again and held up a hand. "Geoff, no, it's fine. I've had him come through with much worse, as you well know. All he needs is rest, plenty of fluids, and to keep his wounds clean." His gaze switched to Ryan. "Though if you do have to come back, I won't be above saying I told you so."

"Noted," Ryan replied dryly. "Geoff, you chauffeuring us home, I'm guessing?"

Geoff snorted. "Well, I'm definitely not letting you drive. C'mon, I'm parked out back."

~* * *~

Geoff looked up at the apartment complex, squinting a little at the reflected sunset beaming into his eyes. He'd picked up takeaway for Ryan and Gavin to devour as they drove, breaking his usual rule of 'no food in any of Geoff's cars', seeing how neither of the men had had a whole lot to eat the last few days, and Ryan wasn't exactly dressed in a manner suited to eating in a restaurant. Out of respect for Geoff's rule, Ryan collected all the takeaway rubbish, ready to toss it in the bin in the lobby.

"Which one's you?" Geoff asked them, indicating towards the building. 

"Top floor, all of it," Ryan murmured, and Geoff let out a low whistle, nodding approvingly. With a jolt, Gavin realised that Geoff was now the only member of the crew that actually knew exactly where they lived.

"Very nice."

Gavin rolled his eyes a little. "Geoff, your apartment takes up three floors. You don't need to act impressed."

"Am I not the leader of our crew? Of course I have the best place. But I know that it'd take a decent chunk of change to snag an apartment like that." He made a shooing motion at them. "Go on, then, you need to get some rest. Both of you."

They bundled themselves out of the car, Geoff driving off almost immediately. Ryan's toes curled against the cold pavement - unfortunately, Geoff hadn't had any shoes in Ryan's size - and they quickly headed inside, Ryan dumping the takeaway rubbish in the trash.

The elevator ride up to their apartment was quiet, Ryan leaning against a wall with his eyes closed. A quiet chime announced their floor and he opened his eyes, following Gavin out as the Brit fumbled in his pocket for the keys. They got inside, and once the door closed behind them, it was like a switch flipped, Gavin reaching out and dragging Ryan into a desperate kiss. Ryan reciprocated just as eagerly, and they quickly stumbled to the bedroom, briefly breaking away to discard their shirts as they went. The backs of Ryan's knees hit the edge of the mattress and he fell back onto the bed, Gavin going with him, being careful not to land too heavily on the older man's injuries.

Gavin felt all the emotions he'd experienced over the past few days swell up within him - his love for Ryan, the gut-wrenching anguish at having to watch as he was tortured, the fear of him dying, his own crushing sense of hopelessness in the fact that he hadn't been able to help. He poured all of it into the kiss, holding into Ryan's shoulders as if letting go meant that the older man would disappear.

"I need- Ryan, I need-" Gavin gabbled helplessly, clutching at Ryan's shoulders, and Ryan understood. The younger man needed to prove to himself that Ryan was there, that he was real, that the Brit's mind wasn't just playing some cruel trick on him. He smiled softly, encouragingly, his hand covering Gavin's. The younger man stared painfully at the bandages wrapped around Ryan's wrists, and the blond made a soft noise, leaning forward.

"No." Gavin pushed him down as he started to rise, voice shaking and hands firm. "Please," he said, the word cracking. "Ryan…"

"I understand, Gavin, don't worry, I'm not going anywhere." His hand rose to cradle the Brit's cheek, and they fell into another kiss. Gavin seemed so perilously close to crying, and Ryan began to wonder if perhaps it was better that they didn't go any further than cuddling for the evening, despite how important having a more physical connection between the two of them seemed to be to Gavin. They were definitely both exhausted enough to warrant taking it easy for the night. 

Gavin's breath hiccupped slightly as he fumbled his way out of his jeans, fingers trembling. Ryan made up his mind, gathering the younger man against him, heedless of the pressure this put on his wounds. He made soothing sounds as the Brit's body shuddered, dry sobs rippling through him, hands curled up underneath him and resting on Ryan's chest.

"I thought I was gonna lose you, Rye," Gavin said brokenly, voice so quiet that Ryan almost felt the words more than he heard them.

"But you didn't," Ryan assured him softly. "I'm right here. You helped get me out, remember?" He reached up to stroke Gavin's cheek again, but the Brit pulled away from him, sliding onto the space on the bed beside him. 

Gavin stared up at the ceiling, unable to look at the older man. "I couldn't do it, Ryan," he whispered. "I couldn't figure out where Burnie was holding you. Nothing I tried worked. _Dan_ was the one who finally cracked it. You wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for him."

"I have a hard time believing that," Ryan snorted, mostly joking. "I'm sure if it'd been up to him, I'd've been left for dead."

Gavin shoved himself upright, face thunderous despite the tears shimmering perilously in his eyes. "That's not fair, Ryan. I know Dan's a right prick sometimes, but d'you really think he'd've been able to take one look at how hard I was trying to save you and _not_ help? D'you really think he'd be that petty, to just let you _die_ when he knows how I feel about you?"

The older man looked away.

"I think you should know just how important Dan is to me, as a friend," Gavin said softly, sincerely, his eyes vulnerable as he looked down at Ryan.

"…Okay," Ryan replied hesitantly, wary of the raw intensity on Gavin's face.

"I… I guess I should give a little backstory here. All the way to the beginning, really." Gavin sat up fully and neatly folded his hands in his lap, eyes downcast and his lips remaining sealed for close to a minute. Ryan sat up as well, raising his knees and bracing his forearms against his thighs.

Finally, Gavin took a shuddering breath and began to speak. 

"When I was growing up, I got a lot of flak for being too girly, for not being enough of a 'boy'." He smiled wryly. "To be fair, I _did_ have this ridiculous long blond hair, I'll have to show you a photo sometime. 

"It was even to the point where I had all these posters of women plastered up on my walls in my room to try and convince my parents that I wasn't gay, even though I was." He let out a sad huff of laughter. "I was too awkward to ever hang around girls and be the 'gay best friend', and as you can imagine, there weren't a lot of boys that wanted to hang around with me either."

Ryan winced in sympathy. Mostly growing up in rural America himself, he could definitely relate to the way Gavin had been treated as a child. However, unlike Gavin, he'd at least had the option as he grew older to fight his way out of any argument about his sexuality. Gavin hadn't had the same muscle that Ryan possessed.

"Dan was my only friend growing up, and, y'know, he was a lot like you. He cared about me, protected me, he tried to teach me how to defend myself, though I could never do much with that. Then, just as we hit high school, his family moved, and suddenly he was going to a different school than me and living in a house eight hours' drive from mine. I was miserable and alone and I just folded up in on myself. It seemed like everyone else there already had their groups and everything, and I was just the sad odd-one-out loner in the corner. Never even bothered to try and make friends with any of 'em. 

"I only left home to go to school, and whenever I was home I'd be in my room, playing one video game or another. It was the only real time Dan and I got to talk.

"There were a bunch of other people I played with online, people I'd never seen face to face. Which was good, really, because I could hide my awkwardness and they didn't seem to care that I was pretty average at most multiplayer games. I thought I'd made some real friends with them, but of course that would be too easy an ending." His smile was bitter. "Turned out they were absolutely the wrong crowd, and I guess I was just a textbook example of their recruitment strategy - find a loser kid with no friends in the real world and convince him that they're the only people that actually care. I talked to Dan less and less, and eventually I just started ignoring his game invites completely." He took a shaky breath. "They got me to think that meeting up with them in real life was a great idea, and we did, several times a week. Within a month, I dropped out of my last year of high school, ran away from home and fell off the grid to join them, they had me brainwashed that well." A small, brittle-sounding laugh scraped free from his throat.

"I basically ran away from home and joined a gang," he continued. "By the time I realised that's what they were, it was already way too late for me to back out. I had nowhere else to go. I never got into the drugs they always seemed to pass around like candy, but I absolutely fell in for breaking and looting and stealing. I was their idiot fall guy, completely expendable. Cannon fodder, an easy target to leave if the police showed up. Somehow, I never did get caught. Even as the gang grew bigger over the years, more dangerous, made a name for itself, I'd always slip through the cracks. When I was in my early twenties, I was one of the most veteran members, but still low on the totem pole.

"And then - and I still don't know how my luck was so shite that this happened - but then some of the guys who made small bombs to set off for cheap thrills messed up big. Took out a whole apartment block, killed a bunch of people including themselves. Suddenly the military were up our arses for domestic terrorism, and then there's me, the fall guy, the one that the rest of the gang were swearing up and down was the mastermind of the whole thing. After all, how could I have been part of the gang for so long if I wasn't important?" He fixed his clear green eyes on Ryan, hands clasped as he leaned forward. "I'd be dead or in jail right now if Dan hadn't been in military intelligence at that time. Not only did he recognise me, he believed me when I told them over and over I wasn't a terrorist." His eyes dropped away, his voice soft. "He threw away everything he'd built up when he snuck me out. I still can't believe we managed to get away without being shot. 

"I went off-grid again, but this time I had Dan with me. He began to teach me what he'd learnt about computers, and I turned out to have a knack for it. We got good at forging passports, and bounced around a bunch of countries while we waited for the heat to die down a little. We did pretty damn well for ourselves, but we'd get the occasional scare where one authority or another came close to nabbing us. That, plus the fact that he kept sleeping around, was enough to convince me we'd be better off parting ways. I knocked around by myself for a few years, came to America, then got contacted by Geoff, and came to Los Santos." He smiled wryly. "And the rest is history." He cleared his throat, mouth dry and obviously aware of just how long he'd been talking. "So… yeah. That's ewhy Dan's so important to me, despite him being unfaithful while we were together. I'd be dead so many times over without him. Plus, I haven't talked to my parents since I was seventeen." His shoulders hunched. "They probably think I'm dead. Dan's the closest thing to family I've got left."

He hugged his arms around himself and rubbed absently at them, gaze dropping to the floor as silence stretched between them. 

"I never knew my real parents," Ryan said softly, and Gavin went completely still. It was so rare for Ryan to even mention his past, the last thing Gavin wanted to do was to startle him into clamming up again. He barely even dared to breathe. "I was in foster care since before I can remember. I bounced around between foster homes, mostly the bad ones. Learned pretty quickly to not mention that I liked boys to my foster parents. I was lucky to get put with good families a few times, but I was already damaged enough by previous experience that it never lasted long before I got shuffled off again. A 'problem child', as it were." He let out a long sigh, and Gavin remained still, treating the situation like Ryan was a delicate baby bird that would fly away, and never come back, if Gavin made so much as a sound. 

"I was barely seventeen when I first killed someone," Ryan continued. "The last foster family I was with, there was me and three younger kids." He smiled grimly. "God… Y'know, I can't even remember their names anymore. 

"The mother genuinely cared about us, but the father… I don't know if I even want to call him that. He was an abusive piece of scum that was clearly only in it for the foster care payouts. He'd beat her if he thought she was spending too much of the money on us, or if one of us did something wrong. Said he was teaching us that our actions had consequences for other people." His upper lip curled in distaste. "I don't regret killing him.

"I got a part-time job at a local mechanic, all cash-in-hand, all off the books. The father took my pay packet every payday, saying it was my 'contribution to the household'. I figured from the get-go that that was what he'd do, though, so I squirrelled away a part of it and always told him I'd worked less hours than I had, that I was making less per hour than I really was. It wasn't like I had an official time sheet or anything, and he was usually drunk when I came home from a shift, so he'd have had no clue what time I was actually clocking off.

"The owner of the mechanic's, Nick, was an old friend of the mother's. He knew how the father treated her, I'm sure, but there was never any proof. The father was good at always aiming for spots where she could easily cover the bruises. Anyway, the mechanic's shop actually attached to Nick's house, and he had a small personal gym accessible from the shop. If it was quiet at work, he'd let me finish up early and work out. If it was really quiet, he'd join me, throw down a couple of sparring matches. He was built like a fortress, I'd rarely get the better of him even though he was closing on three times my age. Taught me how to fight properly, how to defend myself. Everything I knew had been self-taught up until that point, from getting in fights with other kids." Ryan's mouth quirked without humour. "I realised later that Nick was trying to look out for the mother, hoping that I'd take matters into my own hands. I don't think he meant for me to kill the father, but I doubt he shed any tears over it." He shifted, twining his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees. 

"The day it happened, I'd already wrapped up with high school for the year, the younger kids were all still in elementary and junior high. I'd done a morning shift at the mechanic's, but I was done by two so I got home a couple hours before the rest of the kids.

"I'll never know what set him off, but when I got there, she was on the floor bleeding from her arm and he was standing over her with a knife, screaming his head off at her. I saw red. I charged at him immediately, and I think that more than anything threw him off. He tried to slash at me, but he was drunk and sloppy and I got the knife out of his hands fairly easily. Having me overpower him in front of his wife made him furious. He came at me and I didn't even think about it - I just whipped the knife out, caught him right across the neck, and blood sprayed everywhere. He collapsed pretty quickly, and I stood over the mother, watching him die. It was the most satisfying thing I'd ever done.

"The neighbours had called the police already about all the yelling he'd been doing, and that's how they found me - protecting the mother from her husband, even though he was dead. It got ruled as self-defence in juvenile court. I don't think anyone doubted how it'd happened, and it wasn't like he'd been a particularly respected member of the community anyway. 

"I ran away pretty soon after I got acquitted, took all the money I'd saved and whatever the father hadn't already squandered. I knew the mother had been far from happy with her marriage since long before I became a part of her foster family, but I'd still killed her husband. She didn't look at me the same way, and I didn't look at myself the same either. I didn't feel any remorse for killing him, even then. For the first time, I'd taken charge of a situation myself, and I'd won. I'd had all the power, I'd proved that I was stronger than he was. The feeling was addictive. I knew I'd found what I was meant to do.

"I bumbled my way through at first, not going straight back into killing. I left the foster home and struck out on my own, racking up a few misdemeanours here, spending a few days or weeks or months in a correctional there. I sold drugs, took drugs for a little while, but swore off them pretty quickly and stuck to getting other people high. I didn't like the way they clouded my perception, but then most people that take drugs are looking to do exactly that, I guess."

He nodded at the silver pistol on Gavin's bedside table. "I bought that gun, made good use of it. Made a name for myself. Too much of a name, really - I let the job become who I was, let it swallow me whole until Geoff took the risk of hiring me full-time. There's a reason no one made that offer before he did. I was effective, yes, and efficient, but I was unstable. I still am," he admitted, with some difficulty. He didn't meet Gavin's eyes as he said it. "Not to the same degree, but… I do have to work at it." He pulled away from Gavin slightly, shifting a little further down the bed. Gavin watched him with concerned eyes, but didn't move himself, still worried that doing so would startle Ryan into clamming up again. Ryan swallowed thickly, continuing to look everywhere but at Gavin. "I… didn't tell you before, but when… Last time you went to the UK, when you were gone almost a month, I- _relapsed_ , is probably the best word for it. I got so worried that something'd happened to you, I got so fixated on the idea that something went horribly wrong. I felt like I needed to wrest that control back." He clenched his fingers tight around one another, nails digging into the backs of his hands. "I'm sure you've heard stories of the things I'd do to my targets before Geoff hired me, before being in the crew helped me realise exactly how many kinds of fucked up I was. Some of them are exaggerations. A lot of them aren't." He finally forced himself to meet Gavin's eyes, terrified that he'd see his own fear of himself reflected there. Instead, he saw patient understanding, and somehow, that was worse. He hung his head. "And as soon as what I considered a constant in my life - having you around - was gone for more than a few days, all the progress I've made the last five _years_ flew out the fucking window." He stood suddenly, running his hands through his hair, tugging harshly at the ends. "That's- god, that's co-dependency on steroids. I couldn't function like a normal person when you were gone. I don't want to put that kind of pressure on you."

Gavin stated at him for a long moment, stunned and caught entirely off-guard by the sudden flood of feelings from _Ryan_ , of all people. "…But you figured out how to get better, right? The first time, I mean. You've done it before, you can do it again."

Ryan began to pace, agitated. "It wasn't anything like the last time."

"If most of the stories I've heard are true, then I find that hard to believe," Gavin tried to joke, but faltered at the sharp look Ryan gave him.

"I almost killed Geoff."

The Brit shrank back. "What, by accident?" he asked feebly.

"No, Gavin. I had him by the throat because he wasn't giving me enough people to kill, and it was only because he made me think of how _you'd_ react that I stopped in time." The next words stuck in his throat. "Dan's right. I'm not good enough for you." He laughed without humour. "See, I even took you explaining how important Dan's friendship is to you and turned it into something about me. I care about myself much more than I care about anyone else."

"We both know that's a load of shit, Ryan," he said plainly, softly. "I've seen how much you care. About me, about the crew. That's not what your problem is. Your problem is that you think that caring about people makes you vulnerable, and you don't know how to deal with that. You've spent so long needing to be strong, having everyone see you being strong, that you can't handle how that makes you feel." His fingers twisted in the bedsheets. "You should take it from someone who's never been able to be strong that way," he continued quietly. "It doesn't have to be just a weakness. Think how much more the crew achieves together than we would if we were each working on our own. We've all got each other's backs. Think about Burnie taking you." He clenched his jaw himself at the reminder, eyes boring hard into Ryan's. "Any other crew than ours, you'd've been fucked, Ryan. Any other crew would've cut their losses with you, would've let you die rather than ceding territory, and would've struck back at RT after to save face. But we fought for you." His face was set with determined lines. "And I know you. You're not going to let that mean nothing. You're too stubborn."

"But…" Ryan pressed desperately. "You give me so much more than I give you. It's not fair to you, and I _do_ care about you too much to take advantage of you like that."

Gavin took Ryan's hands between his own, thumb brushing over his knuckles and drawing the older man reluctantly back onto the bed. "You're selling yourself short, Ryan," he replied gently. "Don't tell Michael that I'm admitting this, but I was an arrogant bastard before I got to know you. And it's still there, but not anywhere near as bad as I used to be." He rubbed at his arm. "It was a defence mechanism, I guess. After everything that happened when I was growing up, Dan was the only person I trusted. Then he did what he did, and... I didn't want to get taken in like that again. I tried so hard to make sure that no one would even want to try to get close to me." He smiled sadly. "I was so alone, living like that. Now, look how close we are with everyone in the crew. I actually regret keeping that we were together a secret from them for so long." He let out a sigh. "What was even the point of that, really?" 

Ryan stared down at their entwined hands. "Fear," he said quietly. "I don't know about you, but I was scared to admit, to myself even, how important you are to me. Like you said, I only saw it as a weakness. Guess it goes to show how fucked up we both are when it comes to stuff like this."

The Brit's mouth quirked upwards. "Match made in heaven, we are," he laughed, thumb tracing tenderly over Ryan's knuckles once more. Ryan lifted their entangled fingers to his mouth and kissed the back of Gavin's hand, the action feeling startlingly intimate for how innocent and innocuous it was.

"I really do love you," Ryan murmured earnestly, and Gavin did his best to keep his smile from wobbling with emotion.

"You're mentioned that before." His reply was airy, light, trying to disperse the heaviness of the situation. Quite frankly, all the feelings they'd both been splashing about were almost getting to be enough to overcome him.

"After a whole fucking year of not being able to admit it," Ryan said. "I only told you a couple weeks before all that shit with Burnie happened. I could've died without telling you how I felt, 'cause I was being too much of a pussy about it."

"But you told me anyway. And I told you the same back."

"I'm glad you did," Ryan said emphatically. "I would've felt like a complete dumbass otherwise." He flopped backwards onto the bed, dragging Gavin with him. Laughing, the Brit collapsed against his side, snuggling in close. "Good god, this was fucking _exhausting_. I hope you're not expecting anything tonight, I don't think I can put in the effort for anything other than cuddling right now." He wrinkled his nose at how damn _domestic_ he was being. 

"That sounds lovely," Gavin assured him, feeling far too tired himself to be bothered doing anything more either. It was a struggle just to get the blanket out from underneath them and on top of them instead, so that they didn't wake up from the cold in the middle of the night.

"Mm," Ryan murmured, eyes already slipping shut.

"I love you too," Gavin whispered to him, then closed his eyes as well.

They were both asleep in minutes, still twined in each other's arms.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out from underneath a rock* I live!
> 
> So, I know it's been... months (eek!) since I posted anything; I was, for whatever reason, under the naive impression that moving to a full-time 9-5 job and studying simultaneously would somehow leave me with more motivation to write and free time to write _in_ than the full-time all-over-the-place hours hospitality job I had previously.
> 
> Hahaha. Incorrect.
> 
> Well. Not entirely true. I have also finally succumbed to getting Netflix and have binged several series, so a lot of my free time has gone to that. But still.
> 
> I promise that I have every intention of finishing this story, and I have a few other things in the works besides. Just... updates will be slower. Most definitely not one chapter every 3-4 months, like this most recent gap. I'll aim for something at least once a month. Time will tell how lofty a goal that is.
> 
> Anyway, content warnings: immediate smut. That's about it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ryan came to consciousness with the pleasant sensation of someone going down on him. His eyes cracked open, watching as Gavin moved between his legs, lips already swollen and red as they sank around his cock. A faint buzzing sound registered in Ryan's periphery and he noticed the stopper of a vibrating dildo peeking out over the crest of Gavin's ass.

 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Gavin," he rasped, lifting one hand to drag his fingers through the younger man's hair. He felt Gavin smile around him, green eyes coyly flicking up to meet his own. Then, slowly, watching Ryan's face the whole time, the Brit hollowed his cheeks and took the older man in to the root. Ryan let out a long hiss of pleasure, fingers tightening in Gavin's hair, holding him down.

 

He didn't ask what he'd done to deserve such a pleasant wake-up call, because he already knew why. No matter how many times he said that it wasn't Gavin's fault, he knew the younger man was still blaming himself for Ryan's capture.

 

So, he didn't ask, and he didn't think about it, either. He simply closed his eyes and appreciated just how good Gavin had gotten at giving head.

 

At some point, Gavin got one of his hands involved, stroking down whenever his mouth went up. Ryan felt him shift, knees bracing against the older man's calves, a steady, wet sound starting up in counterpart to the obscene noises Gavin was already making by sucking his cock. One of Ryan's eyes cracked open, only for him to moan at the sight of Gavin furiously pumping himself while he swallowed around Ryan's length, a mixture of lube and precome dripping from his fingers.

 

Unable to help himself, Ryan ran a hand through Gavin's hair again and gripped tight, struggling to be gentle as he brought Gavin's mouth flush with his hips. It truly was a testament to how much Gavin had improved that he didn't even choke in the slightest, just leaned into the touch and allowed himself to be guided through the rest of the blowjob, his own hand still working himself over as the dildo continued to vibrate against his prostate. Gavin groaned around Ryan's cock as he reached his climax, mouth filling with come as he spilled his own load onto the sheets.

 

"Good morning to you, too," Ryan murmured, content and a little bemused. Gavin pulled off slowly, making sure he swallowed everything, then reached behind himself to switch off the dildo. With a soft gasp, he pulled it out of himself, setting it to one side as he gave Ryan a small smile.

 

"How're you feeling?" he asked softly, and Ryan let out a quiet chuckle.

 

"After waking up like that? I feel fantastic."

 

Gavin bit his lip and looked down, blushing and pleased with himself. "I was thinking of making pancakes?" he offered, making Ryan grin.

 

"All the morning services, then? I should get tortured more often."

 

Gavin's smile faltered. Ryan sat up immediately and gathered the Brit's hands in his own.

 

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry. That's not something I actually want, I promise."

 

"How are you able to joke about that already? You haven't even been home a whole day yet, and you're already making light of the fact that Burnie nearly killed you?" He shook his head. "I don't get it."

 

Ryan gave his hands a gentle squeeze, shrugging helplessly. "I don't know, it's a coping mechanism, I guess?" He looked down, running a thumb over Gavin's knuckles. "This job… It's not exactly sunshine and roses, we get mixed up in some pretty dark shit sometimes. You know that." He sighed, shoulders slumping back down to normal. "I think that if I don't try to find some humour in it, I'll just slip into my old patterns, and I don't think anyone needs that, least of all me."

 

Gavin managed a small huff of laughter. "Yeah, please don't do that. You were bloody terrifying when we first met, I thought you hated me to begin with."

 

"Well. You _were_ infuriating. Why d'you think Geoff asked me to take you into that storage closet?"

 

Gavin's voice was high and indignant. "Geoff did _not_ ask you to shag me in a storage closet!"

 

Ryan chuckled. "No, he actually asked me to rough you up to try and stop you from acting like the pompous asshole that you were. What ended up happening was entirely your fault."

 

The Brit rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're utterly blameless. 'Sides, we might never have gotten together otherwise. No way I would've ever had the guts to ask you out m'self." He tossed his head. "So, pancakes?"

 

Ryan's mouth curled into a smile. "Mm. Sounds delicious."

 

Gavin flashed him a grin and rolled out of bed, yelping a little when Ryan reached over and swatted his ass.

 

"Ryan!"

 

"You know you love me."

 

Gavin shook his head despite the fond smile creeping along his lips. "Beats me why," he muttered, pulling on a shirt and strolling towards the kitchen.

 

~* * *~

 

The pancakes Gavin made were far from perfect. While the batter had every ingredient in the right proportions, he left them in the pan for just a little too long on both sides, leaving them crispy and slightly blackened. Panicking, he smothered them with entirely too much maple syrup in an attempt to compensate.

 

Ryan thoroughly enjoyed them regardless.

 

Once he was done, he busied himself with clearing the table. "C'mon, we better get going. Geoff'll be wondering where we are."

 

Gavin's brow furrowed. "What, Geoff? What d'you mean?"

 

It was Ryan's turn to be confused. "…Our boss?" he said slowly. "The guy who'll get mad if we just decide to not show up at work?"

 

The Brit's gaze flicked down to Ryan's bandaged wrists and the abrasions on his chest, then back up again. "…Ryan, you were just tortured for two days straight. Geoff's given us both indefinite time off until you're ready to go back."

 

Ryan shrugged, finishing off the dishes and wiping his hands on the sweatpants he'd thrown on when he rolled out of bed. "Okay. I'm ready. Let's get dressed and go to work."

 

Gavin levelled him with a stern stare that would have made any mother proud. "Until you're _healed_."

 

"That's not the same thing."

 

"That's what he meant, and you know it," Gavin retorted, folding his arms. "If you try to go in today, he's just going to yell at you and send you back home, anyway."

 

Begrudgingly, Ryan had to concede that he had a point. He threw up his arms. "Okay, so, what, I'm under house arrest until I'm fully healed? You really think that I won't get cabin fever, sitting around at home all day?"

 

Gavin's expression morphed into a sly smile. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of some things to keep you occupied," he murmured, trailing his fingers along the back of Ryan's neck. He leant down so that his breath would brush against the shell of Ryan's ear and murmured, "Y'know, I'm still pretty open from before, so whenever you're ready to go, so am I." He straightened again with a languid shrug. "I mean, I _could_ take care of it myself, but I'd rather have the real thing."

 

"Oh yeah?" Ryan replied, unable to hide his interest. "And how long do you think you can last? That'll mean a whole lot of sex until I'm healed."

 

The grin only grew wider. "I guess we'll have to find out, won't we?" And with that, Gavin sauntered off to the bedroom.

 

Ryan lasted about four seconds before he gave in and followed.

 

~* * *~

 

Gavin was only able to keep Ryan from heading into work for three days, and even that was an achievement. Despite Gavin's repeated assertions that Ryan wasn't under house arrest, Ryan was paranoid that his injuries would draw unwanted attention if they went out in public in their civilian guises. Gavin had rolled his eyes a little at this, pointing out that considering the multitude of scars adorning his body, a few fresh ones hardly made a difference, but Ryan was firm. Of course, that didn't keep him from constantly complaining about being cooped up, straining Gavin's patience to breaking point. The fact that Ryan had been sleeping poorly since his capture, meaning that Gavin was sleeping poorly due to Ryan's restless night-time shifting, only exacerbated the issue.

 

When Ryan finally threw up his hands and announced that he was going to work and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him, there was a little bit of relief swirling within Gavin's concern. The rest of the crew seemed to be of a similar opinion, treading around Ryan with overt cautiousness. Gavin seemed unwilling to leave Ryan by himself, apparently of the opinion that the moment his back was turned, Ryan would run off and attempt to singlehandedly dismantle what was left of the RT Crew. Ryan just wanted things to go back to normal.

 

None too gently, Ryan reminded Gavin that he really should go over the work that Dan had been doing for the past few days, and make sure he was up to speed. Gavin took the hint begrudgingly, retreating to the computer lab where a subdued Dan gave him a quiet greeting. Gavin sighed and got to work.

 

Ryan, meanwhile, descended into the underground portion of the base, to the solitude of the soundproofed gun range stowed beneath the armoury. Even though there were obviously no plans for him to go on a hit that day, he'd still brought one of his many guns to work with him, too paranoid a person to ever quite feel comfortable when he didn't have a weapon within arm's reach.

 

Rolling his neck, Ryan grabbed a fresh cartridge from one of the shelves and donned a pair of safety earmuffs, not one to disregard practicality, unless doing so would be fun. Premature hardness of hearing was decidedly not fun.

 

He loaded his pistol, taking a steadying breath before lining up the shot and pulling the trigger.

 

The bullet missed the paper target entirely, slamming into the wall to its left.

 

Ryan blinked for a second, uncomprehending. He put down the gun, flicking on the safety and pulling back the slide to check that the gun hadn't jammed, but his eyes hadn't deceived him when he'd seen the bullet hit the back wall. Shaking his head, he let the slide snap back into place, flicking the safety back on again and taking aim once more. It was only then that he noticed the tremors shuddering through his fingers, strong enough to make the gun quiver in his grip.

 

He took a few ragged breaths, then forced down his rising panic, gritting his teeth and firing again.

 

This time, the bullet hit the paper, but didn't hit the concentric rings of the target.

 

Letting out a small growl, he proceeded to unload the gun into the target, but his aim didn't improve, leaving a sad handful of holes in the paper that were a far cry from his usual expert marksmanship.

 

Ryan's shoulders hunched up, locked tight as he gazed agonisingly at the barely-damaged paper target. He stared down the barrel, breathing heavy and uneven as for the first time in his life, his hands shook around his gun.

 

He only lowered the pistol when he heard footsteps approaching, sharp ears discerning Geoff's gait. With effort, he eased his shoulders down from their tense, locked position, but he knew he still looked like he was wound tight as a coil.

 

"Thought I might find you down here. You okay?" Geoff asked softly.

 

Ryan put the gun down on the bench, fingers curling around its edges to hide the fact that they were still trembling. "Fine."

 

Geoff let out a quite snort. "You're obviously not. If you need some more time to recover, just ask. You were fucking tortured, Ryan. No one will think less of you."

 

"I'm fine," he insisted with a growl, fingers tightening.

 

The older man watched him with a measured gaze, then let his eyes flick over to the paper target, only now noticing the small smattering of bullet holes scattered around the perimeter of the outline. Realisation slowly began to dawn on him. "Don't let me keep you, then," he suggested cautiously, testing the theory. "Fire away."

 

Ryan's shoulders ratcheted back up. Several seconds passed. "I can't," he finally admitted.

 

"Why not?"

 

His head bowed and he squeezed his eyes shut. "I already emptied the clip."

 

"And that's the target you were shooting at?"

 

"Yes." The word was tight, painful, a whole world of failure wrapped up in a single syllable.

 

"Go home, Ryan," he said softly. "It's okay to need more than a week to get over what happened to you. Hell, the amount of electricity that got pumped through you, I'm amazed you're not shaking yourself completely out of your skin."

 

"And what do you want me to do at home?" he asked quietly. "You know I'm not the type to just sit around doing nothing, I'll go crazy."

 

Geoff grimaced as he said, "If you're this shook up still, then you're not exactly useful around here right now. I don't like having to say that, but you know it's the truth. You need some more time off, and no one's going to begrudge you that. I know that you've got it in your head that you've got to muscle through and tough it out, but you're just going to end up getting yourself hurt, or someone else. You know you'll end up feeling a million times worse than you do now if one of the crew got hurt because you tried to push yourself too early." He stepped forward, giving Ryan's shoulder a comforting squeeze, trying to ease some of the tension the blond was still holding there. "I'll send Gavin home with you too, if that helps. With the heist done, it's not too busy for him right now, and even if we do need anything in his area of expertise, Dan's hasn't left yet, I'm sure we can convince him to stick around town a couple more days."

 

Ryan gave him a desperate look. "Geoff, please. I've been practically clawing the walls these past few days, I can't take doing nothing anymore. There has to be _something_ constructive I can do that doesn't directly involve me in action."

 

Geoff went to suggest that Ryan go for a motorbike ride instead, knowing that the younger man often found clarity whilst doing so, but quickly realised that if Ryan's reflexes were shaky that he couldn't even shoot straight, then the last thing he should be doing was barrelling down the freeway at twice the speed limit. He gave in with a sigh, slumping against the wall as the breath left him. "Alright, alright, fuck, just give me, like, twenty minutes, I'll sort something out for you, okay?"

 

The younger man visibly relaxed. "Thanks, Geoff."

 

"It won't involve any action," Geoff warned.

 

"I don't need it to," Ryan promised. "I just need to be useful. Hell, I'll take shunting boxes around in one of the storage rooms."

 

Geoff snorted. "Don't tempt me, that _is_ an option."

 

Ryan managed a small huff of laughter. "I mean, it's really not that bad an option. It doesn't require a lot of manual dexterity, it'll keep me physically occupied, and it's not mentally taxing, so it doesn't much matter if my focus drifts."

 

With a roll of his eyes, Geoff pushed away from the wall. "Well, you just wrote your own ticket. You can take on the storage room in the south corner of the base, I don't even know half the fuckin' stuff that's in there."

 

A rueful smile played across Ryan's lips. "Guess I've only got myself to blame for this," he murmured, cracking his neck in preparation for how sore his back was going to be.

 

Geoff slapped him on the shoulder. "You made such a compelling argument, you clearly _wanted_ to do it," he said cheerfully. "Go get to work, then, that shit ain't gonna sort itself."

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... last chapter I said that I wouldn’t be posting every 3-4 months. Technically, that wasn’t a lie, because it’s been five months (eek!) since the last chapter of LIHNTBAUD went up. I know, I’m the worst, I’m sorry.
> 
> Here’s hoping I can start getting this stuff out a little quicker, because otherwise I’ll be about 80 years old by the time this fic is finished.
> 
> Content warnings for the sex.

Ryan would never admit to it, but he quailed a little bit when he saw the sheer volume of stuff crammed into the south storage room. Not only was it a collection of items stolen during heists that they'd never gotten around to offloading, but there was also a healthy amount of random crap that they no longer had a use for. Geoff had said he knew maybe half of what was in there; Ryan thought that the figure was probably closer to a tenth. 

Unlabelled boxes and crates were stacked haphazardly atop one another, creating a labyrinthine maze that definitely wouldn't have complied with any form of fire code. And of course there was no inventory list; that was the whole problem to begin with. Ryan sighed, reminding himself that he'd basically volunteered to do this, and, with a roll of his shoulders, pulled down the first box. 

~* * *~

There was a rolling door on the far side of the storage room that hadn't been used in years, crates and boxes leaning against it for support. Ryan shifted the stacks to the point where he could wind it up, the disused gears protesting with a horrendous screech. The door opened onto an alley between this portion of the base and the next, two empty dumpsters conveniently nestled against the wall. Ryan was sure he'd find plenty of junk to fill them with before the day was out. Glad for the gentle breeze now drifting through the storage room, Ryan headed back inside.

The variety, and sometimes downright absurdity, of the things he found was nothing short of staggering.

One box, filled with a frankly ridiculous amount of grenade-shaped balloons that he was pretty sure Ray had ordered as part of a joke, then lacked the motivation to actually do anything with them once they'd arrived. He was also pretty sure that Michael had nearly passed out when Gavin had challenged him to blow up as many as he could in five minutes, leaving him red-faced and surrounded by poorly inflated balloons.

In another, a solid gold lawn flamingo with diamond-studded eyes that he distinctly remembered Gavin stealing during an art museum heist, Jack and Geoff protesting at its hideousness while the Brit clutched it defensively to his chest. Clearly Gavin's position on the artistic value of the flamingo had been out of principle, otherwise it wouldn't have been in the storage room gathering dust. 

Yet another, jammed with splintered and cracked dart boards that had fallen victim to a knife-throwing competition that Ryan had easily and unsurprisingly won.

Ryan began to suspect that the reason Geoff had leapt onto the idea of Ryan clearing the storage room was because he'd known that finding all these relics of the crew's past shenanigans would serve to remind Ryan of the depth of friendship they all shared, that they all had his back and that certainly none of them saw him as weak.

He couldn't deny it, he was touched.

"You sentimental sap," Ryan murmured, not sure if he was chastising Geoff, or himself.

"Ryan! Geoff said you'd be in here. What's all this, then?"

Ryan started a little at Gavin's sudden voice, letting out a groan as he straightened up, spine popping. By way of an answer, he scooped up the horrific golden flamingo and held it out.

"This is yours, I believe."

Gavin stared at the flamingo for a few seconds, nonplussed, before recognition dawned on him. "Oh my god, I completely forgot about that thing! What's it doing in here?"

Ryan spread his arms with a grin. "Welcome to the land of miscellaneous crap. It's basically everything we've stolen over the years that we never got around to selling off, as well as a bunch of random shit we've been too lazy to throw away. Geoff's got me in here sorting out one from the other."

The Brit snorted. "Why's he got you doing grunt work?"

"Because I couldn't-" Ryan practically bit his tongue with how quickly he shut himself up. His fingers, which had been so steady the last few hours, suddenly began to tremble again, and he was quick to ball them up into fists.

Not quick enough for Gavin's eagle-eyed vision, though, and the younger man's expression softened. "…It doesn't matter. Let's get going, then, it's pretty late already."

Ryan looked at him with surprise, even as his own stomach growled at him. He'd mostly been working inside the store room for the last little while, and had thought it was only early afternoon. When he stepped out through the roller door, however, he saw that the sun was steadily making its way towards the horizon, the colour of the sky just beginning to change. "Time must've gotten away from me a bit," he murmured, closing the roller door with another painful shriek. Gavin winced at the sound.

"Must've," Gavin agreed. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"Not since breakfast." His stomach gurgled again in protest. Gavin tutted.

"Well, we've gotta fix that. Do we have anything decent in the fridge at home? Nah, I can't be bothered cooking or reheating anything. Let's just order some food now, it'll get there a couple minutes after we get home. I'm feeling Thai, yourself?"

Ryan couldn't help but smile at Gavin's fast-paced chatter, taking comfort in the familiarity of it. He loosened his fists slightly. "Thai is good."

"Right, I'll order our usual then." He whipped out his phone, pulling up the takeaway app for their favourite Thai place and quickly ordering their meals. "Alright, done. Let's head home, don't want them to beat us there," Gavin said with a grin, dashing out of the storage room in the direction of the garage.

Ryan kept smiling, the trembling in his hands mostly forgotten as he followed suit.

~* * *~

With all the heavy lifting he'd been doing, Ryan was physically exhausted, leaving little energy for engaging conversation while they ate dinner. Knowing this, Gavin nattered on about nothing in particular, providing a comfortable white noise that didn't require Ryan to do much more than hum occasionally in the affirmative. 

Once their meal was finished, Gavin gathered up the takeaway containers before Ryan had the chance, depositing them in the bin. Not particularly interested in passively absorbing whatever was on TV, Ryan instead went through the motions of getting ready to turn in for the night. The physical labour he'd done had cracked open some of the scabs formed over the injuries on his wrists, so he quickly cleaned and rewrapped them himself, not wanting Gavin to get upset about it again. When he was done, he went straight to their room and flopped onto the bed, despite it being several hours before he usually went to sleep. 

He let out a long groan as he hit the mattress. "I'm never going to get up again," he announced, voice muffled by the way his face was mashed against the covers. 

Gavin made a sympathetic sound, taking a seat beside him and spreading his hands across Ryan's back. "Here, I can help with that."

"Don't know if I'll be much use to you, I'm pretty wiped out right now," Ryan told him, and Gavin patted his shoulder with a smile.

"Not what I meant. Just lie still." Gavin's fingers sank more firmly into Ryan's skin, and the older man groaned again at the pressure on his sore muscles. His movements were just as deft and precise as if he was at a keyboard instead, and Ryan let his eyes slip shut, letting out the occasional sound of satisfaction as Gavin worked the tension out of him.

After a good fifteen minutes, Gavin's hands came to a slow stop, splayed out on his back. Ryan made a disgruntled noise.

"C'mon, I was enjoying that."

Gavin was still for a moment. "...Ryan... If you're not ready to go back to work yet, you need to say so."

He felt Ryan's shoulders tense once more under his fingers. He absently began rubbing them again. "I'm fine," Ryan said tersely, nearly shrugging Gavin's hands away but enjoying the sensation too much. 

"Then why did Geoff have you shunting boxes around all day?"

Ryan closed his eyes, letting out a sigh that was one part a sound of defeat, the other part from the stubborn knot Gavin had just loosened near his spine. "...I couldn't shoot my gun properly at the range," he finally admitted. "I emptied an entire clip, and most of them didn't even hit the target." His voice came perilously close to cracking. "My hands were shaking too much." As if on cue, his fingers began to tremble once more, and he pulled himself out from underneath Gavin's ministrations, fists clenching as he stood. Gavin grabbed onto his arm, trying to stop him from leaving. Ryan contemplated pulling free - it wasn't like Gavin would physically be able to stop him - but instead stayed where he was, sighing as he hung his head. His fingers still trembled.

"Why didn't you just have Geoff send you home?"

Ryan shot him a look.

"Alright, fair enough. But you can't just go and move boxes around every day."

"Well, it's not like I'm useful for much else right now," Ryan said grimly, holding up one trembling hand for emphasis. His jaw clenched as he watched his fingers jitter and twitch.

"Have you thought about maybe talking to Caleb?"

"No. I don't want to." There was every chance that the doctor would tell him that his condition couldn't be fixed. Ryan didn't want to have to battle against that sort of permanence - it would be much less of a mental roadblock to recover if he didn't have such a looming certainty of failure over it.

"Ryan, don't be stubborn. He's a doctor, he'll be able to recommend some useful stuff, I'm sure. He's a good resource. Use it."

Ryan said nothing. 

"Rye, it's obvious that it's at least partly psychological. Your hands don't shake when you're not thinking about it."

"No, they mostly just shake when I get angry, or when I try to use a gun. Both are kind of important in my line of work."

Gavin didn't flinch at the older man's waspishness, knowing it was coming from a place of fear. Ryan was right, after all - he wouldn't be much of a hit man if he couldn't actually hit anything. The prospect of that aspect of his life being taken from him was surely terrifying.

"Go talk to Caleb tomorrow," he said softly. "He'll be able to help, I promise. I'll go with you, if you like."

Ryan bristled. "I don't need you to come with me."

The Brit smiled. "So you'll go?"

"If it'll stop you from nagging me about it," he groused, clearly actually glad at Gavin's insistence.

Gavin rose to his knees on the bed and kissed him on the jaw. "C'mon, I wasn't done with you yet." He tugged at the older man's shirt, and Ryan let himself be dragged back onto the bed. Gavin gave Ryan a gentle push against one shoulder as he fell so that he landed on his back. Grinning impishly, the Brit clambered on top of him, leaning down and kissing at his neck.

Ryan let out a noise of protest. "Gavin, I really am exhausted. I'm not really going to be able to do much for you," he warned, but Gavin kept at it, laughing against his ear.

"Never said I needed you to do anything. Just relax. This is about you. I'm going to make you feel good, okay?"

Ryan's lips curved tiredly. "Well, if you insist," he murmured, but Gavin was already crouched between his legs, yanking down his pants and throwing them off the end of the bed. Ryan settled down and closed his eyes, immersing himself in the sensation of Gavin's feather-light touches on his hips and thighs, toying with the waistband of his boxers. After allowing Gavin to tease him a few moments, Ryan pointedly lifted his hips off the bed. Gavin took the hint and pulled Ryan's boxers off, tossing them on top of his discarded pants. His fingers continued to move lightly, breath ghosting over Ryan's cock. Ryan's lips parted, feeling himself begin to stir as Gavin gently took him in hand, simultaneously licking a broad stripe along the underside of Ryan's cock in order to ease the glide. At the end of the motion, he briefly took the head of Ryan's cock into his mouth and sucked, making the older man's breath hitch. Gavin stroked him slowly and smoothly, taking Ryan into his mouth when he was still only half-hard, bobbing his head and letting the older man harden on his tongue.

There was no shake to Ryan's fingers as he reached up and ran a hand through Gavin's hair. Gavin hummed happily, giving Ryan's thigh a gentle squeeze before shifting, rolling Ryan's balls in his fingers. A sharp breath hissed past Ryan's lips, bucking up slightly into Gavin's mouth.

It was slow and relaxing, just as promised, and culminated in Ryan coming almost lazily down the back of Gavin's throat. The Brit only pulled off once he was sure he'd milked Ryan dry.

"Better?" he asked, a small smile on his reddened lips.

"Much," Ryan agreed. A huge yawn cracked at his jaw and Gavin reached over the end of the bed, collecting Ryan's boxers and handing them back to the older man.

"Get some sleep. You've earnt it. I'll go read on the couch if you need some peace and quiet."

Ryan's hand shot out to grab Gavin's without thinking and he flushed. "Stay?" he asked quietly, voice almost a mumble, and Gavin's expression softened.

"Of course." He switched on the bedside light, then got out of bed to turn off the overhead lights and close the curtains, still filtering in the last rays of the summer sunset. Ryan had already put his boxers back on and slid under the sheets by the time he returned, rolling onto his left side with his right hand near the gun he kept on his nightstand, as he usually did. Not, thankfully, because he'd ever had a need to use it to defend their home from an intruder - they were exceedingly careful about not letting people know where they lived, even among the crew only Geoff knew their actual address - but because the life they led made it more likely that someone would try something.

Gavin gave Ryan's back a gentle caress as he clambered into bed himself, dimming the light as much as he could while still being able to read. He picked up his book from his nightstand, a sci-fi thriller about a brilliant scientist waking up in world that was not his own, and began reading to the sound of Ryan's gradually slowing breath.

~* * *~

True to his word, Ryan spoke with Caleb the next day, even though it rankled to have to ask anyone for help. Caleb was understanding, giving Ryan a quick assessment and stating that whilst he was by no means an expert on neurological disorders, he had every reason to believe that Ryan's affliction was a temporary one. He recommended a specialist for Ryan to see, one who would overlook the unscrupulous nature of Ryan's primary source of income.

Slowly, Ryan healed.

Not just mentally, although he was certainly making great strides there, the specialist Caleb had recommended for him helping him to reach a point where his hands barely shook at all. The physical side of things began to repair themselves as well, the injuries on his wrists and chest scabbing over, forming new skin, and starting to fade.

Geoff, at the recommendation of the specialist Ryan was seeing, flat-out refused to give Ryan any of his usual work, only allowing Ryan to so much as help out around the base because he knew that the hit man needed something useful to do.

It definitely grated at Ryan, not being able to participate in a more active capacity, especially with the dregs of RT still left to mop up. Geoff, however, had already dismissed the idea as a waste of resources, even if he'd been inclined to let Ryan get involved. With Burnie dead and Ashley having all but vanished from the face of the earth, plus a decent portion of their membership being killed besides, the formerly strong crew had had its back thoroughly broken, several smaller crews pouring in to squabble over what territory the Fakes hadn't claimed in the resultant power vacuum. As the Fakes were now the single largest gang in all Los Santos, the rest of the gangs in the area focussed more on trying to pick each other off, not daring to try and take on the Fakes.

With that whole drama behind them, and Ryan more or less back at work, Dan was running out of feasible reasons to stay. Admitting that he was now thoroughly surplus to requirements, the Brit arranged a flight home and soon left the Fakes behind. Whilst some of the animosity Ryan harboured for the other man had waned, it hadn't faded completely, and Ryan would have been lying if he said he was sorry to see Dan go. Still, for Gavin's sake, he kept that particular option to himself.

To keep himself occupied, Ryan ensured every piece of weaponry in the armoury was free of even a speck of dust and functioning to the best of their capabilities. He tidied various areas of the base that had been long overdue for some proper reorganisation. He practiced at the crew's firing range, hands still shaking when he shot at the paper targets, but not as much, aim steadily improving.

The continued physical labour left him completely worn out by day's end more often than not, a fact that suited Ryan just fine, seeing as Gavin was still being delicate with him in bed, seemingly intent on keeping Ryan from breaking.

~* * *~

Gavin held Ryan's gaze as he kissed at the scars left on the older man's wrists from Burnie's torture. The skin had largely healed over, but the marks would be permanent, and they were the only scars of Ryan's that Gavin hated. 

He hated the idea of Ryan going through as much pain as he had.

He hated the fact that he was the reason that Ryan had gone through it in the first place.

"Still not your fault," Ryan said softly, like he was reading Gavin's mind. He gave Gavin a small smile. "Of course I can tell what you're thinking, it's written all over your face." He slipped his wrist out of Gavin's grip, trailing his fingers through the younger man's hair. "Enough with the self-flagellation, okay? The only person to blame is the one who put those scars there, and he's dead now, so it's settled." He leant forward, pressing a kiss to Gavin's forehead. "Deal?"

"…Deal," Gavin agreed reluctantly, and Ryan sighed, clearly not believing his poor display of sincerity.

"Doesn't the fact that I don't blame you at all help?"

"Well, it doesn't hurt," Gavin muttered, curling against Ryan's side, resting his cheek on the older man's chest so that he could avert his gaze. His fingers traced over one of the sections of skin that had borne the mark of the electrodes Burnie had attached to Ryan's body as part of his torture. Thankfully, those marks at least had vanished without a trace.

"Gavin, you can't keep beating yourself up over something that wasn't even your fault to begin with. I'm- well, I'm mostly okay. I'll get over it in time, you should too."

"Not that easy. I can't just stop m'self from feeling guilty, doesn't work like that."

"Why not?" Ryan asked, giving him a smile and a gentle squeeze. "It's like getting sick, right? Just don't."

Gavin smiled despite himself. "Not the same thing," he murmured.

"Well, try," Ryan cajoled. "For me? You're making me feel guilty now."

Gavin's eyes narrowed, twisting to look up at Ryan. "That's not fair."

Ryan gave him an unabashed grin. "Hey, if it'll work, I'll call it a win."

The Brit settled against him again. To tell the truth, while he would have thought that Ryan feeling bad about Gavin blaming himself would have only made him feel worse, it actually did the opposite, helping absolve Gavin of some of his guilt. If Ryan was so against the mere concept of Gavin being at fault, how could it possibly be true?

With a small smile, Gavin began trailing his fingers over Ryan's chest, then drifted to his stomach, then lower. Ryan shifted below him.

"On second thought," Ryan murmured, eyes closed, "You've been treating me so nicely while you've been thinking you owe me something. I might have to retract my absolution of guilt."

Gavin gave him a gentle shove. "Shut up, you git. I'll stop."

Ryan's eyes didn't open as he smiled. "No you won't," he said smugly. Gavin huffed irately at him, knowing he was right, and began the process of slowly and thoroughly working Ryan over.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in the same week? Whaaat? Did we just travel back to 2014?
> 
> Nope, just have had a good portion of this chapter written for ages and I've got some time off work because the office closes over the holiday period.
> 
> Content warnings for rough sex, violence, strangulation, and mental health issues.
> 
> Yeah, sorry.

"Hey," Ryan called out as Gavin passed by, dragging him closer by the belt loops so that they could kiss.

 

"Us finding out about you two wasn't supposed to be a free pass to be gross all the time," Michael grumbled as the kiss grew deeper and more intimate. Gavin pulled back and stuck his tongue out at the other Lad, unable to resist giving Ryan one last peck on the lips before he slipped away.

 

Ryan looked down with a grin, and Michael rolled his eyes. "Dude, are you seriously fucking _blushing_ right now? I think I need to call Geoff, apparently the Vagabond's been replaced by a teenage girl."

 

"Shut your mouth before I sew it shut for you."

 

Michael leant back with a grin. "That's more like it."

 

Geoff stuck his head through the door. "Hey, you two. You seen Gavin?"

 

Ryan pointed his thumb down the hallway. "Yeah, he was just here. Probably headed for the computer lab. Why?"

 

"Go get him. Briefing room, five minutes. Crew meeting," was all Geoff said before vanishing back down the hall.

 

Michael and Ryan exchanged glances.

 

"What d'you reckon that's about?"

 

Ryan shrugged. "One way to find out. You head in, I'll go collect Gav."

 

~* * *~

 

When Ryan arrived at the briefing room, Gavin in tow, Michael and Jack were already inside, Ray and Geoff nowhere to be seen. They speculated briefly on what the meeting was going to be about, but they were all as clueless as one another.

 

Finally, Geoff arrived, Ray hovering behind him in the doorway. The case of his beloved pink sniper rifle was clasped in his hands like a shield, a duffle bag slung over his shoulders.

 

Geoff looked out over the rest of the crew with a solemn expression as they both stepped into the room. "It's probably best if I let Ray explain what's going on here." Ray grimaced and shuffled forward awkwardly, clutching the rifle case tighter.

 

Gavin eyed Ray's gear with some confusion. "Ray, what's happening? You going out on a hit or something?" he asked, wondering why they would be having a full meeting for something like that.

 

Ray sighed. "Not a hit, no, I'm just…" He took a deep breath. "I'm just… going, period. I'm leaving the crew. I'm gonna go solo."

 

Stunned silence reigned over the room for several seconds. Michael was the first to break it.

 

"What the fuck?"

 

Ryan was next to chip in. "Ray, are you sure? I can tell you from experience, solo work is lonely and unforgiving. I don't have to remind you the kind of headspace I was in before I became part of this crew."

 

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's not something you guys did, I promise. I just… I feel like I need some time working on my own."

 

"Where's this come from, Ray?" Jack asked, clearly flabbergasted.

 

Ray shifted uncomfortably. "I've felt this way for a while, I didn't say anything to anyone except Geoff because I didn't want to make it weird. And I didn't want to leave while Ryan and Gavin still hadn't got their shit sorted, and, y'know, that took for-fucking-ever and then Ryan got kidnapped and everything and…" he shrugged. "But hey, Ryan's better now, so." He hefted the gun case in his hands in a half-hearted salute. "That's my cue."

 

The entire group stared at him in silence. Ray cleared his throat.

 

"…I'll come visit," he offered, and Michael snorted at him.

 

"No you fuckin' won't. You only ever hang out outside of work if we drag you along."

 

Gavin gave the Puerto Rican a distressed look. "Ray, we're never gonna see you again!"

 

Ray's shoulders hunched. "I'll visit," he muttered again, but without conviction, turning around and heading for the door. "See you around," he quietly tossed over his shoulder.

 

"Um, bye?" Michael yelled sarcastically, moving to follow. Geoff grabbed onto his arm, shaking his head.

 

"Let him go, Michael."

 

"Geoff, what the fuck? How can you just let him _go_ like that, what-"

 

"This is already more of a scene than he would have wanted," Geoff said. "I practically had to force him to actually say goodbye to everyone instead of just not showing up to work one day. Please don't make him regret listening to me."

 

Michael stared at the empty doorway for a few seconds, then shrugged Geoff's hand off with a growl, resolutely marching in the opposite direction.

 

"Well… shit," Jack muttered.

 

"Well shit is right," Geoff said grimly. "Ryan, you okay to pick up the slack?"

 

Ryan nodded. "I got it, Geoff," he replied, calm and serious, not at all like he was reeling from Ray's abrupt departure. Gavin shot him a concerned look.

 

"Rye, you sure you're ready-"

 

"I'll be fine, Gavin," he soothed. His mouth quirked at the corner. "I've been at this game a lot longer than you have."

 

"Yeah, that's what's got me worried," Gavin murmured. He rounded on Geoff. "Couldn't you at least have made him wait until we knew that Ryan was good to go again? He hasn't even been on a hit since everything happened!"

 

Geoff shrugged and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gav, but I postponed this as long as I could. You have to understand, keeping Ray around when he already didn't want to be here was a challenge, not to mention a liability. Unfortunately, Ryan's just going to have to be ready."

 

"I'm right here, you know," Ryan said mildly.

 

Geoff sighed. "Sorry, Ryan. But it's true. I didn't have much choice."

 

"I get it, Geoff," Ryan soothed. "Besides, I've been getting better every day. My hands barely shake at all now." He looked at the rest of the crew askance, still leery about admitting that he'd experienced such weakness in front of them. Knowing that they'd all seen him being tortured by Burnie only made it worse, drove his need to prove himself to them once more, that he was still the same dependable Vagabond they'd all come to know. "Was there anything pressing you need me to take care of?"

 

"Not pressing, no, but I do have a job for you. You can take a little time with it, make sure you don't rush anything…"

 

~* * *~

 

Gavin paced, worrying at his lip, phone clutched in his hand, as he had been for the past few hours. Ryan had only taken a few days to prepare for the hit, obviously keen to prove that he was still a capable member of the crew, leaving Gavin to anxiously wait for him at home. He kept trying to tell himself that Ryan would be fine, that this was an easy job, and that the older man would return before it even got dark, but it didn't work. What little food had forced himself to eat for dinner sat like a cold weight in the pit of his stomach.

 

It was normal for Gavin to worry when Ryan went out on a hit, but this was different. It was the first job Ryan had done since being tortured by Burnie, and there was no way of knowing if he was actually ready to be back at it. Not for the first time, Gavin cursed Ray for leaving so abruptly, all but forcing Ryan back into the game, ready or not.

 

Gavin leapt about a mile as his phone buzzed in his hand. It was Ryan. Heart pounding a million miles an hour, Gavin opened the text, eyes devouring the words with a tumultuous mix of trepidation and hope.

 

_Job's done, I'll be home in an hour. You better be naked and on the bed when I get there._

 

Relief rushed through Gavin like a heady euphoria, leaving his blood singing with anticipation. Ryan wouldn't be raring to go like this if things had gone poorly.

 

Gavin immediately dashed into the bedroom, even though he knew it was going to be a while before Ryan actually got home. He rifled through the drawers of his nightstand, hunting for some lube. All he could find was the bottle of chocolate lube Michael had bought them as a joke a few months ago. By this time, Gavin was already half hard, so there was no way he was in a state to go out and buy some more, so he shrugged and popped the cap. He squeezed a little out onto his finger, giving it an experimental lick. Surprisingly, it actually tasted quite good. Gavin had never really been one for flavoured lube, always having considered it gimmicky, but this opened up a whole new avenue of possibilities.

 

He slathered a generous amount onto his fingers, then clambered onto the bed, sliding his forefinger between his cheeks and smearing lube over his entrance. His eyes slipped shut as he sank his first finger into his hole, letting out a soft whine at the thought of how he would look when Ryan walked in. How Ryan would hold him down and completely wreck him, have him completely at his mercy and under his power, strong grip impossible to shift even if Gavin had wanted to try…

 

Moaning, Gavin easily slipped in a second finger, imagining Ryan's voice low and rough in his ear, the older man still wild and charged up from having just ended someone's life.

 

Gavin told himself to take it slow, knowing that it would be almost an hour until Ryan showed up. Despite his best efforts, however, with still a good twenty minutes to go, he was keening with desire, three fingers pumping feverishly in and out of his hole. Knowing that holding off until Ryan was home would be so much more satisfying, Gavin forced himself to stop, pressing his face against the mattress and breathing in shuddering gulps. He closed his eyes, hands fisted in the covers, and waited.

 

Almost exactly an hour after his text, Ryan arrived home. Even all the way in the bedroom, Gavin heard the front door open, and he bit his lip in anticipation. It closed again, keys jingling as they were dropped on the sideboard.

 

Gavin made himself ready, naked and spread out on his stomach on the bed.

 

Ryan's footsteps were near silent as they approached the bedroom, but even the soft sound was enough to make Gavin's still-hard cock twitch. He twisted his head around to look at Ryan as the older man entered the bedroom, and let out a quiet moan at Ryan's dishevelled state. His blond hair was roughly tousled and falling halfway out of its ponytail, a bruise bloomed over one cheek, and his knuckles were raw. A small trickle of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth, and he hadn't even bothered to wipe away the black greasepaint smeared and smudged around his eyes. Gavin didn't doubt that he'd come home immediately after finishing the hit - there was an intense sort of liveliness to the older man that he never exhibited unless he'd very recently killed someone. It was something that Gavin always looked forward to, as Ryan seemed to get off on it, if the large bulge in the front of jeans was any indication.

 

And Gavin would be lying if he said that the thought of Ryan overpowering someone in such a raw sense didn't leave him aroused too.

 

He ducked his head back down, his heartrate picking up as he heard Ryan slowly discarding his socks and shoes, bare feet whispering over the carpet. The springs creaked and the bed dipped as Ryan got onto it, grabbing Gavin's hips and sharply yanking him back onto his knees. Gavin yelped at the unexpectedness of it, but still kept his head down, settling into the feeling of Ryan's warm, rough hands on his skin. His cock twitched at even that slight contact. He always felt his most submissive when Ryan had just come back from a hit, which conveniently coincided with when Ryan felt his most dominant.

 

An eager moan left him as a gun was pressed to his neck, and Ryan growled, "You're going to stay exactly like this, and you're going to take everything I give you. Is that understood?"

 

Gavin couldn't nod quickly enough, managing to groan a soft, "Yes, Ryan," as he struggled not to press his ass up against Ryan's tantalisingly nearby crotch.

 

"Good." The gun withdrew and was left resting on the end of the bed as Ryan spread Gavin's cheeks open, admiring the sight of Gavin's puckered hole, slightly slick from where he'd been playing with himself in anticipation for Ryan's arrival. Ryan chuckled. "Did you get bored and start without me?"

 

"I was waiting so long, I-I needed something," Gavin babbled, hands fisting in the sheets as Ryan ran the pad of his thumb over the Brit's entrance. "I didn't come, I promise."

 

Ryan dragged his thumb over Gavin's hole once more, letting out another chuckle at the full body shudder that went through the younger man, teasingly pressing the tip in. Gavin whined. "You must have been waiting a while, you've gone and tightened up on me," Ryan mused, hands going back to spreading Gavin open, thumbs now massaging his cheeks. "Guess I'll just have to loosen you up again." Gavin pressed his forehead against the mattress and tried to smother a whimper.

 

His eyes shot wide open as Ryan suddenly leant forward and laved his tongue over Gavin's hole, flicking inside just the slightest on the upstroke.

 

" _Jesus_ , Ryan-" he gasped, mouth falling open and the muscles of his arm clenched tight as Ryan placed his mouth over Gavin's entrance and sucked, tongue still making those flickering movements as he slowly stretched Gavin enough to push in. A thin whine built in Gavin's throat, morphing into a low moan. Ryan's tongue lapped teasingly at his rim, tasting chocolate, then forced its way back in and twisted in a way that damn near made Gavin lose his mind. As it was, his eyes rolled back, spine arching and mouth hanging slack. He took to messily chanting Ryan's name over and over, hands screwed up so tightly in the sheets that his knuckles were white.

 

"Flavoured lube, hm?" Ryan queried as he pulled away slightly, amused. "Someone was being hopeful."

 

"I-It was all we had left," Gavin stuttered, Ryan's breath hot against his sensitive entrance. "I didn't think- I d-didn't know you were going to-" The rest of his words were lost to a groan as Ryan's tongue drove into him once more. Ryan lightly scraped his teeth along Gavin's rim, and Gavin jolted, breath punching out of him in a hot gasp. "Ryan, please-"

 

Ryan pulled away with an amused hum. "Please, what?"

 

"Please, fuck me, I need you-"

 

"Mm, I _do_ like the sound of you begging," Ryan mused, tugging his shirt off over his head and slowly undoing his belt. "Keep going."

 

Gavin whimpered at the sound, then pressed on, squirming at the thought of Ryan methodically undressing behind him. "Goddamn, Ryan, I want you in me so bad, I love the way your cock feels inside me, please-" His words cut off in a gasp as one of Ryan's hands suddenly clamped on the back of his neck, pressing his chest against the mattress and leaving his ass on display. "Please," he croaked again, whole body quivering with anticipation as he saw Ryan's free hand reach for the chocolate lube he'd discarded earlier, heard the wet sound of Ryan slicking himself up. Seconds later, Ryan's cock was pushing persistently at Gavin's slackened hole, sliding in with a single long, slow thrust. Gavin moaned with relief at finally being filled, and _god_ , how he'd missed this, being subject to the power of Ryan's body, having the older man take command like this and drive him relentlessly to the point of ultimate pleasure.

 

"God, yes, Ryan," he groaned, then Ryan's grip on his neck tightened, head swimming deliciously as the older man launched into a punishing pace. Gavin moaned inasmuch as he could with his restricted windpipe, revelling in the sensation of being so completely at Ryan's mercy.

 

Ryan pulled out of him, hands disappearing from his neck, and Gavin cried out at the loss, only to let out a yelp as Ryan forcibly yanked him to the end of the bed. Ryan stood behind him, dragging him upright and slipping an arm around his throat before sliding his cock into Gavin's ass once more, thoroughly pounding into him again. Gavin reached one hand back to grab at Ryan's waist for support, the other wrapping around the forearm Ryan had pressed against his neck, delighting in the firm muscle there, that Ryan was so strong and capable that it would have been impossible for Gavin to shift him.

 

Before too long, Ryan was shoving him back down again, anchoring one hand around the junction of Gavin's neck and shoulder, the other at his hip, pace quickly becoming erratic. Gavin's cock slid against the covers, already damp with the precome that had been steadily dripping from his tip. He came with a soft cry, come spurting up against his stomach and over the sheets. Ryan, thrusts increasingly irregular, came moments later, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his release flooded deep into Gavin.

 

They were both still for a few seconds, the only movement the harsh rise and fall of their chests as they attempted to get their breathing under control. Then, ever so gently, Ryan eased out of Gavin, the younger man slumping against the mattress with a quiet moan.

 

"I'll feel that tomorrow," Gavin muttered, grinning regardless. The tension and aggressiveness receded from Ryan's bones, movements tender as he placed a kiss on the younger man's shoulder.

 

"You did beautifully," Ryan whispered into his neck. "You're always so good for me."

 

A shiver raced down Gavin's spine at the praise, and Ryan gently scooped him up, carrying him towards the en suite, making sure that the shower water was running hot before shifting Gavin under the spray.

 

"Mm. Missed this," Gavin murmured, eyes closed as Ryan washed him.

 

Ryan's mouth quirked up. "Well, you've been taking such good care of me these last few weeks. About time I returned the favour." His smile became something a little more devious. "Though I think I'm well overdue for taking my time with you."

 

Gavin whimpered a little at the mere thought; by now, Ryan was a master in knowing how Gavin's body reacted, and could so expertly hold Gavin on the cusp of orgasm that it made Gavin want to lose his mind in the best of ways.

 

"Not tonight," Ryan assured, turning off the water and placing a kiss on Gavin's damp collarbone, "But soon."

 

"Sounds like a plan."

 

Ryan smiled and towelled them both off, carrying Gavin back to their bedroom and helping the younger man ease under the covers, mindful of the damp patch at the end of the bed.

 

Despite the ache radiating from his backside, Gavin was asleep by the time that Ryan climbed into bed beside him.

 

~* * *~

 

Gavin woke suddenly, alarm bells clanging in his head even before he realised he couldn't breathe.

 

He calmed a little when he saw Ryan's face in front of him, soft in the dim pre-dawn light filtering in around the blackout curtains, but his panic ratcheted up to eleven when he realised there was something wrong with Ryan's expression - it was filled with abject hatred, staring blankly at some point below Gavin's eyes.

 

The reason Gavin couldn't breathe was because Ryan's hands were wrapped around his throat.

 

"Ryan," he tried to gasp, reaching for the older man's arms in an attempt to pull him away, but Ryan was already snapping out of it, releasing Gavin's throat and jerking back in horror. The Brit filled his lungs hoarsely, the air rushing into him tasting sweeter than anything he could remember. The entire incident had lasted mere seconds.

 

"…Gavin? Jesus, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Ryan hovered over him, anguished, not wanting to touch Gavin for fear of harming him further.

 

Gavin pushed himself upright, laying a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Don't worry about me," he said, voice rough as bruises began to show themselves on his neck. "Are _you_ okay, love? Bad dream?"

 

Ryan looked away. "Burnie," he confirmed briefly, then gently cradled Gavin's jaw with one hand, inspecting the damage he'd inflicted, gaze agonised. "I'm so sorry, it was just a dream, I shouldn't-"

 

"'S alright. That had to have been one hell of a night terror, though. D'you want to talk about it?"

 

The older man kept staring at the marks on Gavin's throat, darkening by the minute. "…He killed you," he whispered eventually. "Right in front of me. Kept taunting me, saying I could've stopped it, that it was my fault. I got on top of him, strangled him, but once he was dead he turned into you, and then…" He faltered. "Then I woke up and…"

 

"Oh, Ryan," he murmured sympathetically.

 

"I thought I was getting a handle on this." Ryan grit his teeth. "I thought I was getting over this, I was fine on the hit the yesterday, I thought-"

 

Gavin laid a soothing hand on his arm. "Rye, it's okay. You can go talk to that specialist Caleb recommended for you tomorrow, see what they have to say about it. We'll let Geoff know you're not ready to go out on hits again just yet. He'll find some way to manage without you." Gavin yawned, wincing as the motion aggravated his throat. "C'mon," he said tiredly. "Still a couple good hours of sleep left. Not like you'll get back to a deep enough state of sleep for it to happen again today. We can worry about this later, okay?" Gavin settled back down under the covers, clearing his sore throat uncomfortably a few times before going still. Within minutes, his breathing was smooth and even, blissfully asleep once more, like he hadn't just been strangled.

 

Ryan just stared. How could Gavin be so supremely _okay_ with this? Jesus Christ, Ryan could have easily killed him! What if Ryan hadn't woken up? Gavin wouldn't have had the strength to fend him off.

 

And what if it happened again? What if he _didn't_ wake up soon enough next time, what if he woke up to find he'd killed the man he loved?

 

The thought of causing Gavin's death like that was horrifying.

 

Too horrifying to bear.

 

If Ryan couldn't maintain enough control over his mental instability, then... maybe the best solution was at least to make sure that the people he loved wouldn't get hurt by it.

 

Once he was sure that Gavin was deep asleep once more, Ryan gently eased out of bed, careful not to disturb the blankets covering Gavin. He quietly padded into the kitchen, hunting around for the notepad and pen he used for grocery lists.

 

The written word was always much easier than speaking anyway.

 

He just hoped Gavin would understand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers, commenting on the last chapter: it's so nice to see Ryan recovering from what happened, he deserves to have something good happen to him after the last few chapters
> 
> Me, having already written most of this chapter: *sweats profusely*


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Yay!
> 
> So, this one's the aftermath from Gavin's perspective; I think it would have been a little too jarring to keep chopping between the two, especially considering some of the writing elements I'm using, especially for Ryan's response - which will be in two chapters' time, as the next chapter will also be from Gavin's perspective.
> 
> Content warnings for feelings.

Gavin woke slowly, grimacing as he swallowed, the bruised muscles of his throat contracting painfully. He let out a small sound of discomfort, but quickly cut it off, unsure if Ryan was awake, not wanting to make the older man feel bad if he was. He rolled over with the intention of giving Ryan a reassuring smile, but the expression faltered when he realised that the other side of the bed was empty and cold.

 

Pushing down a creeping concern that Ryan had gone and done something stupid, Gavin rolled out of bed, yanking on a pair of sweatpants and fiercely telling himself that Ryan had just gotten up early and hadn't wanted to disturb him. He rubbed gently at his neck, clearing his throat despite the fact that it hurt to do so, and saw a glass of water that Ryan must have put out for him. Gavin smiled at the thoughtfulness, bittersweet with the knowledge of how guilty the older man must have felt. The cool water soothed his throat regardless.

 

"Ryan?" he called out experimentally, grimacing again at the croakiness of his voice.

 

No answer.

 

The worry seeded in his chest began to take root, tangling around his heart and making it harder to breathe.

 

"Ryan?" he tried again, voice cracking pitifully as he padded out of the bedroom into the silent hallway. His heartrate quickened as he walked into the living room with still no sign of his boyfriend.

 

The concern started to bloom into panic, breath beginning to catch at the end of each inhale.

 

_He hasn't- he wouldn't-_

 

Hysteria fuelled his actions and he ran to the front door, fumbling to unlock it, tearing it open and looking wildly up and down the corridor. Of course, it was empty. Gavin raced back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

He raced through the living room, then into the kitchen, searching desperately for some indication of where Ryan might have gone.

 

His eyes fell on the neatly folded note placed prominently on the kitchen counter, and he felt himself wilt. With shaking fingers, he picked up the paper, smoothing out the creases and taking a seat at one of the barstools as he began to read.

 

_Gavin,_

 

_I'm sorry that I'm telling you this through a note rather than to your face, but I know I won't have the courage to do what I have to if I do it any other way. If you want to call me a coward, that's fine. I deserve it._

 

_Everything that's happened recently - Dan, Burnie, the fallout from all of it - has made me realise that I don't have a good handle on myself, psychologically. I mean, I've known that for a while, but I haven't confronted it, not really. Not only have I made myself a danger to my enemies, but I've also become a danger to my friends, and, most importantly, to you. I know that I wouldn't be able to cope if something I did hurt the people I care about, so, I've decided to remove the option. You'll all be safer if I'm far away from you, no matter how much it hurts me. You know I've never been much for selflessness, but I figure this is a good place to start._

 

_Please understand that my decision comes from a place of love, and it isn't anything you've done wrong or could have changed._

 

_You deserve so much more than I can offer. I know you can find someone better than me, someone without the emotional walls and mountains of baggage I drag around with me._

 

_I want you to be happy, and I know that given time, you'll realise that everything that comes with being with me wouldn't make you happy in the long run._

 

_I love you, and I'm sorry._

 

_Please do us both a favour and don't try to look for me. Move on. You'll be better off without me around._

 

_Ryan_

 

The words began to blur in Gavin's vision, both because his eyes were filling with tears and the trembling of his hands was making the paper shudder back and forth. With a scream that tore at his throat, Gavin let the tears fall, not caring if the downstairs neighbours could hear.

 

Ryan couldn't just be _gone_ like that. Hadn't Gavin told Ryan he was there for him? Hadn't he offered to help Ryan in any way he could?

 

Hadn't that been enough?

 

Hadn't _he_ been enough?

 

His grip tightened on the note, crumpling the edges and tearing it in two. He scrunched the pieces together and angrily tossed them away. They fell apart and fluttered to the floor, but Gavin couldn't even see them anymore through the haze of tears. His eyes burned as he tried to stop them from falling, but they escaped anyway, rolling in hot streaks down his face as his shoulders shuddered silently.

 

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, soundlessly crying, but after a while Gavin got a hold of himself enough to realise that he needed to tell someone what had happened. Sniffling, he dragged the back of his hand across his face, wiping off the resultant snot and tears on the shirt he'd slept in, and grabbed his phone from the counter, glad that he'd left it there the night before. As miniscule a task as it was, he didn't feel like he would have had the energy to go hunting around for his phone in his room.

 

He tapped the icon for Geoff's contact details and waited for the older man to answer.

 

"Geoff, I need you to come over, please," he said, voice thick with tears, and rough still from being strangled the night before, but surprisingly not quavering too much.

 

_"Gavin, what-"_

 

Gavin hung up and switched off his phone, leaning his head against the kitchen counter and closing his eyes. He knew he was causing Geoff unnecessary stress by doing it like this, but he knew that without Geoff physically there to lean on, he would completely fall to pieces trying to explain things. Gavin had enough dignity left to want to avoid that.

 

Within ten minutes Geoff was pounding on the door, jiggling the doorknob and letting himself in when he realised it was unlocked.

 

"Gavin?" he yelled, eyes casting about desperately.

 

"Here," Gavin called out, and Geoff followed the sound of his voice, finally spotting him nestled between the barstools in the kitchen, still leaning against the counter.

 

"Oh, Jesus, Gav, what happened? Who did this to you?" Geoff touched gently at the strangulation marks on Gavin's neck, and the Brit jumped, having almost forgotten about them. He hadn't even gotten a good look at them himself yet; from the concerned expression on Geoff's face, he could only guess that they looked horrific. Alarm flickered in Geoff's eyes. "Gav, where's Ryan?"

 

"Gone," Gavin croaked, nearly choking on the knot swelling in his throat.

 

" _Gone_? Gone where? Who- who took him, who even _knows_ -"

 

"No one took him," Gavin interrupted, sounding tired. He closed his eyes, the tears falling once more. "He _left_."

 

Geoff's confused gaze fell on the torn note lying on the floor to Gavin's left. He gathered the pieces, smoothing them out and lining them up. His brow furrowed and his mouth fell slack as he read Ryan's farewell letter.

 

"That motherfucker," he breathed, turning back to Gavin. "Did he…" He gestured lamely at Gavin's neck, and the Brit nodded wearily.

 

"Night terror. Thought I was Burnie."

 

Geoff looked down at the note again. "…Fuck."

 

"Geoff, what do I do?"

 

"God, Gavin... I don't know. As far as trying to get him to come home before he wants to come home... I mean, it's Ryan. He's been doing what he does for half his life. If he doesn't want to be found, you're not going to find him."

 

Gavin rubbed at his nose. "But I have to try, right? He's not in his right mind right now, he could just end up hurting himself."

 

Geoff pressed his lips together. "Gavin, I don't want you setting yourself up for failure. Ryan knows how to make himself untraceable. And, I hate to say it, but… he's actually kind of right."

 

"What?"

 

"Gavin, he just nearly killed you _in his sleep_. He kept insisting that he was getting better, and I trusted his judgement, then he does _this_." He gestured at Gavin's neck, then snorted. "Hell, maybe some time away from all of this might not be that bad of a thing for him right now."

 

The Brit glared at him. "You don't mean that."

 

"Yeah, I kinda do." Geoff folded his arms. "Think about it for a second. He keeps getting triggered by things that remind him of what happened with Burnie, and you're a pretty significant part of that. Having some time to himself might do him some good."

 

"Might," Gavin muttered, feeling the fight draining from him.

 

"And he _might_ be doing the wrong thing, but at least he's doing it for the right reasons. You know he really wouldn't forgive himself if he did something to permanently damage you. Honestly, he probably feels like he's atoning for what he's already done to you. Even if you somehow did manage to find him, I don't think that there's much you could say to convince him to come home." Geoff gestured at his neck again, and Gavin hung his head in defeat. "Just give him some time to heal. He'll come back when he's ready."

 

 _If he comes back at all._ The thought hung silently between them, neither of them daring to actually say it.

 

"Okay," Gavin said quietly, feeling limp and useless.

 

"Now, let's do what we can about that bruising, alright? Let me have a hunt in your medicine cabinet for some arnica cream, I'm sure Ryan uses buckets of the stuff…"

 

~* * *~

 

The first few days of Ryan's absence didn't feel real to Gavin. Each morning he would wake, rolling over with a smile, only to be greeted by a cold, empty space where Ryan used to sleep. It would always take him a few minutes to recover from the crushing reminder, staring at the ceiling with eyes burning from unshed tears, before forcing himself out of bed and going through the motions of getting ready for work.

 

Work itself was light, for Gavin at least; with the core of the crew now diminished in size, and the reestablishment of territorial borders due to RT's collapse, it would be some time before they would be in a position to pull off another heist. With the success of the last one, it would be some time before they even needed to. Geoff tried his best to find work for Gavin to do, but he didn't have the sort of grasp on high-level technological skill that Gavin did, so the help he could provide was limited.

 

Gavin found his own work, reviewing the digital security measures in place to protect their data. It was laughably boring, but he did at least find some level of distraction in fiddling with one piece of code or another. It was both a blessing and a curse - Gavin doubted that he'd be able to bring his top game to any planning, but not having a lot to focus on left him with far too much idle time to ponder on what he could have done to make Ryan stay.

 

He shouldn't have just gone back to sleep after Ryan's nightmare. He should have put his own exhaustion aside and comforted the older man more, made absolutely sure that Ryan had calmed down and wouldn't do anything rash, like running away from his problems, for example. God, he just wished that there was something, anything, that he could have said or done that would have made Ryan stay.

 

Life moved on for the other Achievement Hunters. Of course, they were shocked and sad that Ryan had left so abruptly, but while neither Geoff nor Gavin said anything, it was obvious where the bruises on Gavin's throat had come from. Michael attempted to broach the subject a few times, being far gentler about it than one would expect given his usually abrasive personality, and Jack did too, of course, being the mother hen of the group, but Gavin always brushed them both off. Geoff didn't bother, knowing what the response would be.

 

Gavin found himself acting more and more like he had before he and Ryan had gotten together - not letting anyone close, covering up his insecurities with a façade of superiority and indifference. The old personality slipped on like a mask, and once it was back on, Gavin didn't know how to take it off. He was convincing enough that the others just accepted that Ryan had brought out a better side in him, sure, but that otherwise he seemed fine, even if he'd gone back to being an irreverent asshole.

 

He'd never felt so alone.

 

Doing the work they did, there was always the very real threat that when they went out on a job, that one of them might not come back. Something like this wasn't as severe, to the others at least, seeing as there was every possibility of Ryan returning at some point. More and more, however, Gavin doubted that he ever would; that Ryan would keep himself buried so deep in anonymity that Gavin would never find him, or otherwise have his demons overtake him completely.

 

Rage festered in his heart, sorrow giving way to anger over the way Ryan had just left. How could he possibly have thought that abandoning the people that loved him most would help him?

 

But of course Ryan hadn't been thinking of himself - his absence from their lives was a misguided attempt at keeping them safe, even at the cost of his own sanity, his own life.

 

That just made Gavin madder, knowing he was wrong.

 

Four days after Ryan had left, Gavin decided he couldn't take waking up in the bed he used to share with Ryan anymore. He shoved some clothes into a duffle bag and made his way back to his old apartment. Sometimes, he'd forget that he even still owned it; all the bills were on autopay, and Gavin had enough money to not even notice the dint that put in his finances. Now, he was glad he'd never gotten around to selling it.

 

He stopped for groceries on the way there, knowing that a good portion of whatever was left in the cupboards there was probably past the best by date. He lugged his load to the elevator, nodding tiredly at an old neighbour he half-recognised, then disembarked on his floor, treading the once-familiar path to the front door. His keys jangled as he crammed the right one into the lock, flicking on the lights once inside and coughing a little at the dust swirling in the entryway.

 

Gavin pushed further into the apartment, dumping the grocery bag with all the perishables inside into the fridge and shoving the rest into the cupboards, not bothering yet to properly unpack the bags or throw away whatever expired food he'd left behind last time.

 

The folding couch was still in bed mode from when Dan had been here.

 

He wished for a brief moment that the other Brit hadn't gone back to England already, then immediately revised the thought. There was every chance that Dan would take the opportunity to capitalise on Ryan's absence, and there was every chance that Gavin's loneliness would allow him to succeed. Gavin knew he would regret it after the fact, especially if Ryan came back and found out about it.

 

When.

 

When Ryan came back.

 

Gavin went to his room, laid down on the dusty sheets, and tried not to think for a while.

 

~* * *~

 

Another three days, and Gavin found that living back in his old apartment was somehow worse. His anger, at first so bright and furious and so easy to focus on, dwindled down until it was just a hollow ache. With a sigh, he packed his things and dragged them back across the city, only to stop dead at the residential mailboxes in the lobby of his and Ryan's apartment building.

 

There was an unmarked envelope poking out of their mailbox.

 

Gavin pulled it out with shaking fingers, glad that he didn't have to spend the next few minutes cursing and fumbling with his keys. There was no return address, just a generic stamp in the top corner and Gavin's address printed neatly on the front.

 

It was Ryan's handwriting.

 

He tore the envelope open, yanking out the letter inside. He knew after reading it, he'd most likely burst into tears in the middle of the lobby, but he didn't care. He unfolded the letter and began to read.

 

_Gavin,_

 

_It's a little archaic to be sending letters by physical mail, I know, but I had to make sure there was no way you could trace it. I know how you are, I didn't want to risk you ignoring the note I left you and trying to find me._

 

_I realise that you're probably worried about how I'm doing. Hopefully this letter will help ease your concerns - I promise that I'm doing as well as I can. I haven't had any more dreams about what happened, but Gavin, you have to understand. I couldn't risk what happened the night I left happening again. I would never forgive myself._

 

_I'll be in touch soon - for the first little while at least, I think I'll send these letters to you, so that you know I'm okay and that you don't have to worry about me. The last thing I want is for you to be tearing yourself up over this._

 

_I won't send you letters forever, obviously - I want you to move on with your life, and you can hardly do that if I'm sending mail to you all the time. Just for a couple months, just to soothe any concerns you have about my wellbeing, then I'll leave you alone._

 

_I love you._

 

_-Ryan_

 

Gavin barely made it back up to the top floor before his ragged, poorly controlled breathing devolved into heavy sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is over 100,000 words now hahaha fuck


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dumps 6,000 words of angrysad Gavin in your laps and runs off*

Gavin was even more subdued than usual when he arrived at the base the next day, barely reacting when Geoff announced that he'd promoted one of the lower-ranking crewmembers to join the main crew as their new hit man. Jeremy was around Gavin's age, short and built like a tank, head shaved bald, a short brown beard surrounding a friendly smile as he introduced himself. Michael, he already knew, from assisting the other man in preparing the vehicles needed for the heist. He had numerous other talents as well, his skill as a sniper apparently nearly rivalling Ray's, and he seemed genuinely eager for the opportunity to be working within the upper echelons of a crew as prestigious as the Fakes.

 

Jeremy's arrival forced Ryan's absence to solidify in Gavin's mind, and for that, Gavin hated him instantly.

 

He didn't speak to Geoff for days, either, knowing that Jeremy had been brought in as a replacement. And while in the back of his mind, Gavin could acknowledge the fact that in a business sense, it was necessary, he couldn't reconcile the facts with his feelings.

 

Another letter arrived. Gavin was torn between actually reading it and immediately throwing it away. He settled on the former, deciding that he didn't want to give up what little he now had left of Ryan. It read much the same as the previous letter, filled with promises that this was what was best for both of them. Gavin didn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

 

He put it in a box under his bed with the other two letters, the note Ryan had left for him the night he'd disappeared carefully taped back together. He'd take the letters out periodically, heart aching dully as he read them, like picking at a scab rather than just letting it heal.

 

A few more days passed, and like clockwork, another plain envelope arrived in the mail. It didn't tell Gavin anything new.

 

The next day, he asked Jeremy to teach him some hand-to-hand combat skills.

 

The shorter man was wary at first, having received nothing but sullen animosity from Gavin previously, but he cautiously agreed, and Gavin proved to be an eager student. The whole situation with Ryan made Gavin feel useless. He wanted to feel strong in some sense, even if it was just purely physical. There was a gym in the base - of course there was, although admittedly Gavin himself hadn't had much use for it previously - stocked with a vast variety of exercise equipment, including a full-size boxing ring.

 

Gavin remembered the number of times that Ryan had tried to provide him with some hand-to-hand training, doing his best to cajole Gavin into actually focusing. How every time Gavin let himself get distracted by the arousing effects of Ryan overpowering him and pinning him to the ground, too turned on to concentrate and dragging Ryan down with him. How he'd always thought that as he spent so little time in the field, there was no true need for him to be learning any of it. Besides, he knew how to use a gun now, that was already enough, right?

 

That had been a lesson bitterly learnt.

 

Jeremy didn't go easy on him, knowing how important this was to Gavin, and Gavin appreciated not being treated like he was weak. Whenever the shorter man threw him to the floor, which was often, he only held Gavin there for a beat before helping him up, explaining whatever slip-up he'd made that had allowed Jeremy under his guard.

 

Gavin steadily improved. Obviously, he still wouldn't stand much of a chance against a seasoned combatant - Gavin knew that hand-to-hand skills weren't something that could be mastered in a matter of days or weeks - but he was starting to get the hang of it, throwing himself into the training, spending hours mock-sparring with training dummies when Jeremy was unavailable. Gavin blessed their flexible work hours, and the fact that he had precious little else to work on.

 

A small voice in the back of his mind told him that going so hard at it wasn't a particularly healthy thing to do, despite it being a good distraction from the fact that Ryan was gone, but Gavin smothered the voice, burying it under his rage and sense of inadequacy. 

 

His evening hours were filled with punches and kicks and jabs, fighting and fighting until he didn't have the strength left to so much as lift his arms to shoulder height.

 

He dragged his aching body home and found another letter in the mailbox.

 

_Gavin,_

 

_If you don't want to read these letters, that's fine, you have my blessing to throw these in the trash as soon as you get them. I can assure you that I won't hold it against you. Hell, it would make me happy, even, because it'd mean you're moving on from me, which is exactly what I want. I'll still be sending them for a little while longer, just in case you are still worried about how I'm doing. I'm sure that once I do stop, you'll forget all about me. I promise that it's for the best. You deserve to be able to move on, to be with someone who would make you truly happy._

 

_I'll stop sending you these letters soon. Two more, that'll be it._

 

_Don't get me wrong, I do miss you, so much, and I'll miss this last line of communication I have with you, one-sided as it is. But it's worth it. You're much safer this way, and your wellbeing is what I care about most._

 

_I hope you're doing well._

 

_I love you._

 

_-Ryan_

 

Gavin crumpled it in his hand and tossed it onto the bedroom floor, then immediately lowered his protesting body and picked it up again, smoothing it out and putting it in the box under his bed with the others. There was a decent stack of them now - Ryan had been sending one every three or four days for over three months. Gavin hoarded each of them like a precious treasure, even though at certain points, he'd come perilously close to throwing them all out in a fit of rage. He knew he'd never actually do it, though, knew that any momentary satisfaction he'd gain would be almost instantly overwhelmed by regret. These letters were the last of Ryan's words he had left, he wasn't about to simply discard them.

 

Whilst he'd known that Ryan would stop writing to him eventually, having a definitive cut-off like that, and so soon as well, hit Gavin like a brick. Two more letters. That was it.

 

Within a week, he would never hear from Ryan again.

 

He threw himself into his training, and what little work he had, resolutely ignoring the looming finality of losing his last point of contact with Ryan.

 

When the next letter arrived, he could barely even bring himself to look at it; he didn't even read it until the day after he got it, leaving it on the kitchen counter until the heavy weight of it in the back of his mind became too much to bear.

 

Just like every letter before it, it broke his heart just that little bit more. The fact that Ryan was struggling was evident despite his assurances to the contrary, and the way he asserted that what he'd done was the best thing for everyone seemed like he was trying to convince himself as much as Gavin. Gavin climbed into his huge, empty bed and read the letter three more times before gingerly tucking it away with the rest, turning off the light. He stared up at the ceiling, a chink in the curtains sending a pale finger of moonlight racing across the white paint.

 

One letter left.

 

He closed his eyes and pretended that the day would never come.

 

~* * *~

 

"I don't mean to pry, but I gotta ask… what happened to the Vagabond?"

 

Gavin's head snapped in Jeremy's direction, lowering the towel he'd been using to wipe the sweat from his face after a particularly fierce bout. Whilst he was still nowhere near good enough to actually best Jeremy in hand-to-hand, he'd still managed to get a few solid hits in.

 

The question threw Gavin off guard. Before he could commit to ignoring it outright, he found himself saying tightly, "He left."

 

And of course Jeremy had known that already, but the way Gavin said those two simple words gave him pause. "Were you close?"

 

Gavin scrubbed at his face with the towel, ostensibly to swipe away the sweat still beaded on his face, but more to soak up the sudden tears welling in his eyes before they could fall. "Yes," he said, voice clipped, and Jeremy sat next to him on the chairs facing the ring. Sometimes other members of the crew came and watched them spar; Gavin was glad this wasn't one of those times. He got the feeling that Jeremy was tactful enough to have waited specifically for such an occasion.

 

"I'm sorry," Jeremy told him softly. "I didn't know."

 

The Brit gave him a sharp look. "He isn't dead," he replied caustically, voice catching even as he said it. For all Gavin knew, he might be. The only evidence he had to the contrary was a letter in the mail every few days, and soon he wouldn't even have that.

 

Jeremy made a placating gesture. "That's not what I was getting at. I meant I didn't know you were together." He paused. "I didn't misread that, right?"

 

Gavin dabbed furiously at his face. He doubted he was fooling Jeremy at this point, and he decided he didn't much care. "No, we were. We kept it under wraps outside of the main crew, for safety's sake, y'know." He let out a watery laugh. "I mean, Ryan's the Vagabond, and what am I except for a weak spot?"

 

"You're not weak," Jeremy said gently. Gavin snorted and looked away. "I mean it. You're incredibly determined - just look at how far you've come with your hand-to-hand skills. You came pretty close to knocking me off my feet a few times today." It was a bit of an exaggeration, but the sentiment remained. "And that's only one kind of strength - it takes a lot to try to cope when someone you care about just leaves like that."

 

But he wasn't coping, Gavin wanted to yell. He might've been behaving aloof and arrogant, like his old self, but the facts were the same as they were then - his self-aggrandising act was just that. He'd brush away any concern that the others had about how he was doing, convince them that he had gotten over it, all the while internally screaming at them to realise that he was lying.

 

Then he did.

 

"I'm not strong like that either! I'm just fucking pretending to be okay!" His voice cracked, face going red as he shot to his feet. "Not that it even bloody matters, no one in our line of work cares about emotional strength unless they can turn it into a weapon!" His eyes glittered. "All that shit we went through with the RT Crew? It was my fault! Burnie hated Ryan, he found out about us, and he used me to get to Ryan, then tortured him so badly that he had a goddamn mental breakdown and ran off!" He sat back down abruptly, head hanging, his voice suddenly quiet and wavering. "It's my fault he's gone."

 

"That's bullshit."

 

Gavin looked up to see Jeremy staring fiercely at him.

 

"This crew is built on that kind of strength," Jeremy said. "The whole crew cares, even if they're further down the ladder. I care. There's no way that we could've all pulled off rescuing Ryan from RT if that wasn't the case."

 

It hadn't occurred to Gavin that Jeremy would have been involved with the rescue - he'd been with the crew since before the last heist, after all, albeit only as one of the more background members, and almost the entire crew had pulled together to get Ryan back.

 

Jeremy smiled grimly. "And you're not as good an actor as you think," he said. "I've been able to tell something was up with you pretty much since I joined the main crew. I just wanted to get to know you a little better before bringing anything up so that you wouldn't bit my head off out of hand."

 

"None of the others have noticed," Gavin muttered, still a bit bitter over the fact. When he thought about it, though, it made a certain sense - when everyone else had first met him, he'd been just as flippant as was his norm now. It was easy to see how they would interpret his behaviour as simply being the way he acted without Ryan to balance him out. Jeremy had joined the crew well after Ryan and Gavin had started seeing one another, so any interactions they had had prior to Ryan's departure would have been far more cordial than if he'd still been his old self at the time. Jeremy didn't have that same frame of reference that the others did; he'd only seen Gavin at his happiest, or full of exhausted determination in the harrowing days leading up to Ryan's rescue. The way Gavin was acting now was foreign to him. It was far easier for him to see that something was wrong.

 

"Do you know why he left?"

 

Gavin's eyes brimmed once more. "He… he was having some trouble adjusting, after what Burnie did to him. He thought he was too dangerous to be around the rest of us, and that cutting all ties was the best solution for that," he said, then chuckled wryly. "Guess he had to be pretty emotionally strong to do something as monumentally stupid as that, huh?"

 

"And you didn't try to look for him once he'd gone?" The words weren't accusatory, rather a genuine enquiry. It still stung a little.

 

Gavin sighed. "What would be the point? He's made it clear, multiple times, that he doesn't want me to find him. With his skillset, there's pretty much no way that I could, anyway."

 

Jeremy cocked his head. "Multiple times?"

 

"…He's been sending me letters in the mail about twice a week," Gavin admitted. The words shook a little as they left him. He hadn't told anyone else about this. It ran too much against the uncaring façade he'd been trying to project. "He keeps trying to convince me he's okay and insisting that him being gone is for the best. But he's said he's going to stop sending them soon. I'll be getting the last one any day now. I wouldn't be surprised if it's already in my mailbox, he's been pretty regular with them."

 

"…Well that's kind of a dick move," Jeremy said eventually. Gavin let out a huff of laughter.

 

"Maybe. It's all I've got left of him, though."

 

"Don't y'think that maybe he's sending 'em because he's not as okay with leaving as he keeps saying he is? He doth protest too much, all that?"

 

Gavin gripped the edge of his chair. "D'you think I don't ask myself that every damn day?" he asked tersely. "Once he's talked himself into a course of action, he's too stubborn to talk himself out of it, and I doubt he's been interacting with the sort of people that'd do much to convince him otherwise." His voice lost its hard edge. "I know how good he is. I know that if I do give in to that thought, that if I try to look for him, I'll probably fail. Even if I don't, and I do somehow manage to find him, I doubt he'd listen to anything I have to say once I saw him." A sad laugh caught in his throat. "And I know that despite what you think, I'm definitely not strong enough to handle that."

 

"Okay," Jeremy replied simply, understanding that this probably about as far as Gavin was willing to budge on the subject for now. "You did good today."

 

Gavin got the feeling he meant more than just their earlier sparring practice. "Thanks," he said, and they both stood. Gavin hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Don't… Please don't tell anyone about this," he requested softly.

 

Jeremy gave him a kind smile. "What, and let everyone know you're not an unrepentant asshole? Nah. Your secret's safe with me."

 

~* * *~

 

Gavin's emotions were still running high when he got home, so of course when he checked his mailbox, like he did every evening, a plain white envelope greeted him.

 

The final letter. If Ryan had his way, the last words of his that Gavin would ever receive.

 

Gavin raced up to his apartment, trembling, only daring to look at it once he was behind the privacy of a locked door. He tore open the envelope and scanned the letter, but he barely even read what Ryan had written, knowing that in any case it was just the usual platitudes and hollow assurances that he was doing fine.

 

No, Gavin's attention was captured instead by _how_ Ryan had written it - and the shakiness of Ryan's penmanship told the true story, even if the words themselves didn't.

 

Jeremy had been right.

 

Something in Gavin snapped.

 

"Right," he said firmly, angrily, slapping the piece of paper down onto the kitchen counter and standing up, quickly gathering his things.

 

Futility be damned. He was going to find Ryan and bring him home, kicking and screaming if he had to.

 

~* * *~

 

Finding Ryan ended up being shockingly easy.

 

Going into it, Gavin had fully prepared himself for spending weeks of agonising searching for even the slightest clue - not necessary, as it turned out. All it took was running a simple algorithm, searching for a few key phrases, and Gavin found a hit. Ryan had gotten sloppy. There was chatter about a new gun-for-hire in Liberty City, going by the call-sign Malicious for the brutality with which he eliminated his targets. From the descriptions, it sounded a lot like the sort of stuff Ryan did before he joined the Fakes, when the line between Ryan and the Vagabond had been at its blurriest, which was troubling in and of itself. Not only that, but as Geoff had said, Ryan was incredibly adept at covering his tracks when he needed to. The fact that he'd been so easy to find meant that either Ryan had been silently crying out for Gavin to find him this whole time, or had otherwise completely given up on the idea that Gavin would ever even look for him. Gavin didn't know which option he feared most.

 

Whilst in and of itself, this all painted a very concerning picture, it only strengthened Gavin's conviction.

 

He was right. He'd found Ryan, and he was going to bring him home.

 

~* * *~

 

In a move tantamount to history repeating itself, Gavin posted a letter to Geoff's home to let the other man know what he was doing, if not where he was going. He knew that Geoff would try to stop him otherwise, and he didn't want Geoff to find out what he was doing until he was well out of San Andreas. It felt cruel, doing it like this, but much like Ryan, he didn't want anyone following him and trying to convince him to change his mind.

 

He packed a waterproof bag and strapped it down on the back of Ryan's black Bati 801. There were better, more reasonable options for transport, he knew - by taking the bike, he'd been forced to pack very light, and he didn't much want to think how much driving would suck if it happened to rain - but it felt wrong not to take it. Ryan loved the bike, and had surely wanted to take it with him, but ended up leaving it behind because it was a little too flashy when he was supposed to be on the run.

 

The sun was just beginning to set as Gavin headed out, neon green helmet on his head and Ryan's skull-etched helmet in his bag. Flame-orange clouds blazed against the soft peach colour of the sky, fading through pink and mauve to an eventual deep blue.

 

Gavin knew it would take him a few days of hard riding to get to Liberty City, seeing as it was on the opposite coast, so he was eager to set out as soon as possible. From what he'd found, Ryan - he refused to think of him by his new call-sign - had been operating there for nearly a month there, so it wasn't particularly likely that he'd get up and leave just as he'd established a client base, but Gavin didn't want to take the risk. In any case, driving at night meant less traffic, meant quicker travel time, and meant cooler temperatures to be riding in. Gavin was glad that it was the beginning of autumn rather than the height of summer, especially since he had opted for his riding leathers, seeing as he'd be on the road for extended periods of the day. They didn't see much use, usually, Gavin tended to wear his normal clothes despite the risk.

 

Los Santos rapidly vanished behind him, the sun going with it. The highway grew quieter the further he got from the city, the deeper the night became.

 

Once night was fully established, time quickly began to lose meaning without an external reference to measure it against. When Gavin would glance down occasionally at the clock on the bike's dash, sometimes mere minutes would have passed, sometimes over an hour. He passed towns and cities, glittering with the light of civilisation, but outside of these man-made structures, the scenery was lost in the darkness.

 

Around 7 am, Gavin pulled up at a shabby highway motel with a petrol station attached. He fueled up, paid, and parked near the reception building, heading inside to see if there had been any rooms vacant the night before that he'd be able to take. It was hardly peak travel season, so Gavin figured his chances were fairly solid, but he slapped a couple notes down on the counter for good measure, enough to easily pay the going room rate many times over. The manager at the desk, a rather portly bottle-redhead woman who seemed to be sleepily waiting for the caffeine from her morning coffee to kick in, widened her eyes at the small stack of cash. Her morning fatigue forgotten, she promptly organised a room, no questions asked and no name required, also granting Gavin's request to park his bike in the staff garage attached to the reception building for his own piece of mind.

 

He took the keys, parked the bike, headed to his room, and took a few minutes to extricate himself from his riding gear before flopping down onto the gently sagging mattress and promptly passed out.

 

He woke a solid six hours later, the midday sun peering through a thick veil of light grey cloud. Gavin dressed back up in his leathers again, glad for the cloud cover as it would keep some of the sun's heat off him - the clouds themselves didn't look anywhere near ominous enough to make him worry that it would rain too heavily. He dropped his room keys at the reception desk, grabbed a sandwich from the gas station, devoured it, and set off.

 

The clouds finally began to abate as evening approached - not before gently soaking him with a fine drizzle first, despite his earlier confidence, making Gavin very glad that both his bag and his riding gear was waterproofed - and the setting sun was a comfortable warmth against his back, casting a fiery orange glow on the tarmac stretching out before him.

 

Whilst having a mostly straight highway to travel along until he hit the east coast was obviously convenient, time- and distance-wise, Gavin found himself wishing the drive was a little less monotonous. He would have killed for a few bends and curves to break up the unending straight line, anything to distract himself from the ever-present, gnawing concern that he was making a mistake - that whoever Malicious was, it wasn't actually Ryan; or that it _was_ Ryan, and that he'd be so furious that Gavin ignored his request to leave him alone that he wouldn't even listen to a word Gavin had to say.

 

The towns grew farther apart, the cities even fewer, forest and farmland springing up as he left the western population centers far behind him. The road grew a little more worn, and a lot less well-lit, some dark sections of highway illuminated by nothing except the beam of his own headlight. Gavin slowed for fear of hitting something that he wouldn't see coming in the darkness - he knew that if he collided with a deer, there was a very real chance that he wouldn't survive the crash.

 

He followed road signs to a small B&B run by an elderly couple. They seemed a little leery of him at first; he could hardly blame them, what with him showing up fully decked in black biking gear well after night had fallen. He was able to quickly spin a story of being on holidays from the UK, getting lost on a cross-country motorbike tour, and self-deprecatingly telling them he'd been too proud to ask for directions before it had gotten too late to continue. The hastily constructed story was enough to placate them, and they were quick to service him with their rustic hospitality, fixing him up a late dinner from leftovers that had been intended for lunch the next day, the woman insisting he had more until Gavin told her he might well burst if he had another bite. They showed him to one of the rooms - predictably laid out with wooden furniture, floral sheets, and an overabundance of knick-knacks crowded on top of the dresser - and left him to his own devices.

 

He hadn't brought his regular phone with him, for obvious reasons, instead relying on a burner phone if he got into an emergency, as well as a small laptop. Whilst obviously not anywhere near as powerful as the computers he had back at the base, he didn't really need it to be; he was only using it for maps and to keep track of any chatter about things that Ryan might be involved in. He breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't find anything to indicate that Ryan had moved on from Liberty City.

 

Gavin was grateful for his host's trusting nature, not even minding the woman's insistence that he let her pack him something for the road when he tried to book out of his room before breakfast. He accepted the brown paper bag with kind thanks, this time putting down more than the room rate as an act of appreciation rather than convenience.

 

~* * *~

 

Farmland and forest faded out to desert, the sun blistering overhead, the roads turned brown with dust that rose in a plume in his wake, then faded back into forest again. Towns were scattered along the sides of the highway, then more and more frequently, blending into a sprawling suburbia that in turn led into Alberney, with Liberty city finally rising in the distance.

 

Then, the highway itself rose, the Hickey Bridge taking Gavin from Alberney to Algonquin, the heart of Liberty City. Gavin found a reasonably priced hotel, booked a room for a few nights, and parked the bike in the garage underneath the building.

 

But that wasn't his final destination. He hired a cheap, nondescript car, parking that in the garage as well, then went up to his room to snatch a few hours' sleep - that was all he needed, really, years of marathon coding sessions affording him the ability to operate for hours on end on a minimal amount of rest. By the time that he woke, the sun had long set, but that didn't bother him much. His body clock hadn't been running on a regular pattern over the past few days, at any rate, and night suited his purposes better anyway.

 

He clambered into his cheap rental and headed out once more.

 

The bright lights and skyscrapers of Algonquin became a distant fixture on the horizon as Gavin crossed the Northwood Heights Bridge over into Bohan. Gavin found himself winding through abandoned warehouses and rundown housing projects, hostile eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar vehicle in their midst. It was abundantly clear he'd made the right call in leaving the bike back at the hotel.

 

Bohan was far from the cradle of Liberty City's night life, especially not with the glitz of Algonquin shining just across the river, but like any borough, it had its fair share of bars. Gavin found the area with the highest density of skeezy bars, the kind most likely to be patronised by the sort of people that would hire Ryan for work, and parked down a side street, hoping that it was far enough out of sight that it'd still be there when he got back. It wasn't that he couldn't easily afford having to pay the rental place, he'd rather just not have to bother.

 

The first bar was a bust, as was the second, and the third. All he received was unfriendly silence, or a curt, 'he doesn't come here'.

 

Gavin seethed with impatience, wanting to flaunt his reputation but knowing that doing so would be ill-advised. His position as one of the core members of the Fakes wouldn't have as much clout this far from Los Santos, and in any case Gavin didn't want to go broadcasting his presence, lest Ryan catch wind of it and get spooked off. Hell, he'd even been affecting his best American accent on the off chance that one of the bar owners would tell Ryan some skinny British guy had been asking after him.

 

Mastering himself, Gavin made his way through the next few bars on his list, each of them getting distinctly more disreputable as he went along.

 

The sixth bar he stepped into was poorly lit, the only sound a rickety ceiling fan and some gritty old rock song playing over speakers that looked like they were from the previous century, despite there being over a dozen patrons clustered on mismatched barstools. The floor didn't look like it had ever so much as seen a mop. Gavin suspected the stickiness under his feet was old blood as well as alcohol.

 

Gavin approached the bar, cautiously optimistic. An unsmiling Latina woman who looked like she could easily break Gavin in half watched him approach.

 

"Evening," he greeted her, sure to keep his Britishness smothered. Even so, he knew that it was abundantly clear he was from out of town, despite the fact that he'd dressed down, wearing a simple hoodie and a pair of jeans that weren't even designer. "D'you know if Malicious is going to be in tonight?"

 

The woman grunted, mistrustful of a non-local asking that kind of question. Gavin sighed and slid a hundred onto the bar, being sure to keep the motion natural, aware of the hungry eyes of the other bar patrons on his back. It was an even bet at this point that one of them would follow him out once he was done here. "Look, if he's not going to be here, can you at least give me a number?"

 

The woman swept the dirty rag she was cleaning the bar with over the note, neatly brushing it into her free hand. "Haven't seen him tonight. I'll get that number for you." She grabbed a scrap of paper from near the till, scrawling across it with a pencil stub before sliding it over. Gavin squinted at her handwriting, making sure that he could actually read it before stuffing it in his pocket.

 

"Thanks," he said, and she just grunted noncommittally at him.

 

When Gavin stepped outside, he immediately took off at a sprint, ducking into a side alley he'd noted on his way in and crouching behind a dumpster. Just as well, because seconds later he heard the door open, then a low mutter of aggravated voices as they presumably looked up and down the empty sidewalk. The voices retreated back into the bar, door swinging shut behind them once more.

 

Gavin let out a slow breath. Even though he doubted the men had been masters of combat, he hadn't exactly wanted to test his new hand-to-hand skills in the real world so soon, especially when he was so far from any real help if things went poorly. Gavin gave it a few more seconds, then straightened up, stepping out onto the sidewalk once more and walked back to his car as quickly as he could without looking suspicious. Mercifully, the car was exactly where he'd left it, and he climbed into the driver's seat. He pulled out the scrap of paper the bartender had given him, and his burner cell, gaze flicking between both as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

 

He stared at his phone - the second reason he'd taken a burner instead of his normal phone, so that Ryan wouldn't recognise his number - for nearly fifteen minutes before screwing up the courage to punch in the phone number he'd been given. Apprehension swirled in his stomach, making him nauseous as he opened up his laptop on the passenger seat. What if Ryan didn't pick up? What if he hung up the second he heard Gavin's voice?

 

God, what if Gavin was wrong, and this guy was just some random, unfeeling killer, who might even come after Gavin for wasting his time? What if Gavin was wrong, and he never saw Ryan again?

 

The phone answered on the fourth ring.

 

_"Go ahead."_

 

Gavin held his breath. Even in those two clipped, unemotional words, Gavin knew he'd been right.

 

It was Ryan.

 

He forced his voice to stay even.

 

"I'm curious, how much would you charge for you to admit you were wrong and come home already?"


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand smash cut back to Ryan's perspective of his absence! Yay!
> 
> Suffering's not done yet, kiddos.
> 
> Major content warnings for mental health issues, and dealing with them poorly (including with violence). Whilst certainly my aim here is not at all to romanticise the experiences of those with mental health issues - I've only had mild experiences with panic attacks and the like myself, and even that I would never wish upon anyone - I do feel that I should make it abundantly clear that running away from your mental health problems should never be a solution. There are a multitude of services available for this sort of thing, should you need them. Not everything will work for everyone - what's imperative is that you never stop trying to improve yourself, to always do your best to find ways to keep your mental health issues from bringing out the worst in you.
> 
> You may fail, but the most important thing is that you keep trying.
> 
> Now, go enjoy your emotional torment.

Ryan ran like the four horsemen of the apocalypse were after him.

 

His first five days saw him change vehicles almost a dozen times - some he stole, some he traded, some he purchased under a litany of false names.

 

Once he'd gotten himself out of San Andreas, he moved erratically, not making any logical progress in any particular direction, the only constant being that he didn't head back any closer to Los Santos. Sometimes, he'd travel for days along lonely stretches of highway, only to double back at some random point, taking bumpy back roads that hadn't seen proper maintenance in years.

 

It was over a month before he eased up even a little, allowing himself to stay in any given place more than a day or two. He would always send his letters to Gavin just before he moved on, just to be extra safe.

 

Ryan hadn't planned on writing the letters when he left, it had just sort of happened. He couldn't help himself. Cutting himself off completely all in one go had just been too painful.

 

He purchased a large pack of generic stamps, a stack of plain white envelopes, a spiral notebook and a couple of pens, ensuring that the only thing different from letter to letter was the actual words they contained, lest Gavin gain some clue as to his whereabouts. When he wrote to Gavin, he told the younger man that he hadn't had any more night-terrors, and for the first two letters, that was true.

 

The night after he sent the second one, however, sleep eluded him for the longest time, until it suddenly turned around and sank its claws deep into him, injecting poison into his mind.

 

_"Here we are again, Vagabond," a supercilious voice drawled behind him. Ryan's skin crawled._

 

_It was Burnie._

 

_He stayed silent as the older man circled in front of him, grinning like a shark._

 

 _"I'd almost think you_ wanted _to be here, letting me get my hands on you again." He laughed. "Are you just a masochist, is that it?" Ryan still said nothing. "Well, if that's the case, it's hardly fun for me to indulge you. No, I've got something better planned."_

 

_Burnie gestured to the side, and inexplicably, horrifyingly, there was Gavin, gagged and bound tight to a chair, shirtless with his bare chest covered in electrodes. Ryan jerked towards him, only to find he was bound to a chair as well, unable to escape. He whipped his head back to Burnie, who was holding a horribly familiar black remote._

 

_"Y'know, I should've_ _realised_ _it at the time, but this'll be far more painful for you than anything I could do to you physically."_

 

_Gavin's fearful eyes stared desperately at Ryan, screams muffled by the gag in his mouth._

 

_Ryan's throat was drier than a desert. He yanked ferociously at the bindings on his wrists and ankles, but of course they held firm._

 

_"Who would've thought that the Vagabond had gotten so soft?" Burnie murmured, smirk curling at his lips._

 

_"Please," Ryan rasped, gaze not moving from Gavin's terrified face. Burnie laughed._

 

 _"Oh, I_ do _like the sound of you begging," he said, and turned the dial to maximum._

 

_Gavin shrieked uncontrollably into the gag, seizing and jerking as the smell of ozone filled the air. Ryan screamed as well, garbled pleas for Burnie to stop, to torture him instead. His voice rose in pitch as it kept going, and going, seconds crawling by like years as Gavin continued to convulse. All of Ryan's words fell on deaf ears._

 

_Finally, finally, Burnie let up, and Gavin slumped back down into the chair. The ends of his hair smoked slightly, the gag in his mouth damp with sweat and saliva and tears, urine forming a big wet patch on the front of his jeans. He let out a muffled whimper._

 

_Ryan balled his hands into fists, but it didn't hide their shaking._

 

_"How was that, Ryan? Better than getting tortured yourself, right?"_

 

_"Go to hell," Ryan hissed, even his voice trembling._

 

_Burnie's eyes were bright and savage. "You know what? I've got a better idea. I think I can hurt you physically after all." He walked over to the Brit's chair, putting his hands on Gavin's shoulders._

 

_Ryan's fingers kept shaking, but everything else went still. He had no idea where this was going, and he didn't like it._

 

_"Gavin, I know that couldn't have been pleasant for you. How would you like not to have to feel that again?" Burnie purred. Gavin let out a confused noise, and the older man chuckled. "Of course, how rude. Let me get that for you." He unwound Gavin's gag, and the Brit made a face, working his tongue around in his mouth. "So?"_

 

_Gavin looked at him askance. "What would I have to do?"_

 

_Burnie grinned. "Astute, I like it. Of course there's a price for everything."_

 

_Ryan wanted to yell at Gavin not to trust a word that Burnie said, but his tongue suddenly felt like lead, leaving him incapable of speaking._

 

_With the sort of fuzzy dream-logic that made nonsensical leaps seem perfectly rational, Gavin was standing, electrodes vanished from his chest and bindings gone as Burnie handed him the remote. Gavin looked at the remote, then at Ryan, bare chest now stuck with electrodes._

 

_"Go on, Gavin," Burnie murmured. "You'll be the one that suffers otherwise."_

 

_Ryan's tongue still refused to move._

 

_"I'm sorry, Ryan," Gavin said softly, trying to smile. "But remember, you said you'd rather you be the one hurting instead of me, right?"_

 

_Ryan stared at him numbly. He'd said that, true, but not like this. Not at Gavin's hand._

 

_The younger man's voice was still gentle and quiet. "How do you think I felt, then, knowing that you'd hurt me like that and just abandon me afterwards?"_

 

_He twisted the dial, and pain filled Ryan's senses._

 

Ryan jerked awake, sweat sticking the sheets to him. He could almost feel his skin still tingling, the claws of his nightmare sunk deep into him, reluctant to release him.

 

He let out a shaking breath into the stale night air.

 

Once he'd calmed, he rolled over, closing his eyes, promising himself that he was just resting them, that he wouldn't sink back into that horrifying dreamscape.

 

It didn't work.

 

_"You're not good enough for him."_

 

 _Ryan turned to see Dan, the space behind him hazy, Ryan's mind not bothering to fill in the background. It should have been obvious that he was dreaming again, but as the brain often does during sleep, it interpreted what was happening as real, despite the lack of detail. He balled his hands into fists. "You keep saying that, but he chose_ me _. Not you."_

 

_"And look where it's gotten him." Dan pointed to the floor, and when Ryan followed the line of his finger, there was Gavin._

 

_Dead._

 

_Two hand-shaped bruises that were a perfect match for Ryan's pressed into his neck._

 

_"No! I didn't-" Ryan fell to his knees, shaking Gavin's body in a futile attempt to rouse him._

 

_"You can't stop hurting him, can you?" Dan accused, yanking Ryan away from Gavin's body despite his struggles, spinning him around so that they were face to face. "Why, Ryan? Why do you keep hurting me?" Tears were misting Dan's eyes, his entire face blurring, and suddenly it was Gavin standing in front of him instead. Still with those ugly purple handprints wrapped around his neck, skin cold and dead where it touched Ryan's. "Why?" Gavin's hands were like claws on Ryan's arms, green eyes filmed over as he clawed his way up to Ryan's neck instead, squeezing tight. "Why, Ryan? Stop it!" he screamed. "Just stop hurting me!"_

 

_Ryan couldn't draw breath - not to give a reason, not to_ _apologise_ _, not to beg for forgiveness. He tried to mouth something, he wasn't sure what, but Gavin's dead eyes couldn't see._

 

_"Stop it!"_

 

"Stop it!"

 

Ryan sat up in his creaky little bed once more, the poky motel room still echoing with the remnants of his shout. He panted out a few rough breaths, chest heaving with exertion, stale sweat clinging to him like a greasy film. Then he flopped back down onto the mattress, which protested quietly beneath him. He buried his shaking hands in his hair and began to sob.

 

~* * *~

 

Outside of dropping a letter to Gavin in a post box every three or four days, Ryan refused to let himself fall into a predictable pattern - staying in one place for anywhere from a single night to almost a week, travelling in a different direction every time he left, changing up the distance travelled each time.

 

His dreams took on the same kind of sporadic quality. It didn't much seem to matter how long it had been since he'd last moved, how long it had been since he'd last written to Gavin, even the quality (or lack thereof) of the various mattresses he'd been sleeping on. The nightmares would come as they pleased, sometimes laying silently in wait for weeks, leaving him on edge, or else assaulting him three nights in a row, leaving him to exhaustedly drag himself through his days.

 

The shaking of his hands returned as well, and unfortunately it was all too regular - his fingers would invariably tremble whenever he escaped from the throes of one of his night terrors, or in the rare confrontations where he'd needed to use his gun, or at least have it out and on display. He avoided actually using it as much as possible - not just because he still wasn't particularly confident with his ability to aim accurately, but also because leaving a trail of bodies in his wake would have been one of the less subtle things he could have done.

 

Of course, that didn't include people he got paid to kill. It was almost concerning, how in some of the dodgier areas he travelled through, potential clients in need of his services found some way to gravitate towards him, even when all he was doing was quietly minding his own business in an otherwise empty booth at some shitty bar.

 

Never mind that he put himself there on purpose, knowing that his skills were broadcast in the way he carried himself, providing people ample opportunity to seek him out for work. This wasn't always effective, mind you, Ryan sometimes spending hours sat and waiting, nursing a diet Coke, with nothing to show for it by the end of the night except for a slight toothache.

 

When he did get that kind of work, though, it was the closest thing to solace he could find - finally, something he could actually control, some scenario where he had the power, and could actually do something he was good at, something he'd spent half his life doing.

 

Ryan knew it was a disturbing magnification of how bad he'd gotten when Gavin had been gone on the UK job, but it was the only thing in his life currently that he could even remotely classify as enjoyable.

 

Which, in and of itself, was a troubling thought to have, but at this point, it was all he had left.

 

~* * *~

 

The dreams weren't always violent; sometimes, they were just emotionally taxing. Ryan couldn't decide which of them he liked least.

 

_"I'm glad you're gone," Gavin told him, tone matter-of-fact. "I don't have to worry about you hurting me anymore."_

 

_And that was what Ryan had wanted, wasn't it?_

 

_That didn't stop the tight knot in his throat, the tears stinging in his eyes._

 

_"I thought I was happy, being with you. But you were right. You were only ever going to make me miserable in the long run."_

 

_Ryan's fingers trembled, and Gavin scoffed softly._

 

_"See? You can't even stop yourself from shaking, you're that much of a mess." Gavin's eyes bored into Ryan's. "All you do is hurt people. You've spent half your life mastering different ways to do it, now you can't even do that properly anymore."_

 

_He balled his hands into fists to try and still the tremors, but both his arms shook instead, soon his whole body wracked with uncontrollable tremors._

 

_"You're broken, Ryan," he said quietly, voice laden with distant sympathy, like murmuring platitudes over the loss of a passing acquaintance. "You're broken, and there's nothing anyone can do to fix you."_

 

Ryan woke to a pillow soaked in his own tears.

 

~* * *~

 

He moved on again. The new place was even more run-down than the last, an entire studio apartment crammed into a space only slightly larger than his bedroom back home.

 

No. He shook his head. That wasn't home anymore. Not if he wanted Gavin to be safe.

 

Ryan didn't bother unpacking his things, just shoving his duffle bag under the creaky single-size bed that seemed in danger of collapse. He gingerly eased himself down onto it, wincing as the springs shrieked. The last bed he'd had was bad, but this one seemed like it would creak if he so much as breathed too deeply. Not that it made a lot of difference; the comfiest bed in the world wouldn't have stopped the nightmares that now plagued him on a regular basis. That was a fact he'd kept out of his letters, of course; he could hardly tell Gavin how bad things had actually gotten.

 

Sleep was hard to come by. Not just because of the dreams, although they certainly didn't help, but he'd chosen to settle in one of the more notorious parts of Liberty City, the borough known as Bohan. There were near-constant domestic disputes on the floors below and above him, and he was fairly certain there was an illegal brothel operating out of one of the apartments a few doors down the hall. He was absolutely certain that the apartment next door to him was a drug dealer's den, had heard muffled deals going down through the walls. He kept a chair wedged under the door knob of the front door whenever he was home, and took anything valuable with him when he wasn't, not trusting the flimsy lock to keep out unwanted intruders.

 

Money ran thin. Ryan hadn't taken much with him, somehow not feeling right about taking anything from his and Gavin's shared account despite most of it being his to begin with, and it was difficult to pick up enough jobs to get by when he never stayed in one place much more than a week. What little he'd managed to earn or steal along the way wasn't going to last much longer.

 

Now, he had no choice. It had been just over four months since he'd left; he'd just have to risk it.

 

For now, at least, Liberty City would be his home.

 

He began to frequent the seedier bars in town - not drinking himself, as always. No matter how bad things got, that was a path he knew he could never visit again. In establishments like these, his sobriety made him stick out like a sore thumb, made it clear he was there for business. He couldn't operate as the Vagabond, obviously, but his experience was clearly broadcast in the way he carried himself, the cold steel of his eyes, the scars crosshatched over his knuckles.

 

In the following weeks, he easily built enough of a reputation to get by on. The tremors were so bad at this point that his gun was a prop more than anything else - he was almost guaranteed to miss anything but a point-blank shot. He fell back on some of the crueller methods he'd used during his early Vagabond days, relying on his hands and close-combat weaponry. It was cathartic, in a way, slipping on that old mask. Only figuratively, of course; using his skull mask even this far from Los Santos was far too risky. He'd left it behind, anyway, just like he'd left everything else behind.

 

In any case, it was easier to pretend that his victims were Burnie when he'd already reduced them to an unrecognisable pulp. That was cathartic, too.

 

His ruthless style earnt him the call-sign Malicious, and what small sense of humour he had left made him roll his eyes at the melodramatic name, but it stuck. Business was good; the crooked little corner of Bohan he'd set himself up in was filled with low-lives too cowardly to settle their own debts. He was always careful to research his targets before actually taking them out, ensuring that they weren't part of the Spanish Lords or the Albanian Mob, lest either gang come after him in retribution for killing one of their own.

 

Ryan didn't need to charge much in order to eke out his existence - he wasn't there to get rich, not by any means, and generally the people he was being paid to kill or brutalise were settled so deep in the underbelly of this town that there was no way the police or anyone else would care enough to investigate. The cops already avoided the area like the plague, anyway, and they probably saw each of his victims as one less miscreant left to terrorise the more affluent areas across the water.

 

Work was easy enough to come by that he'd actually built up a decent stockpile of cash once more, but something kept holding him back from moving on. He came up with a million different excuses - he'd already established a reputation here, the money he'd earned would only last him so long before he'd have to settle somewhere else for a while anyway, that if anyone was going to come looking for him they would have found him by now.

 

Anything to keep from admitting to himself that it was primarily because it was the only thing that still brought him and kind of joy or satisfaction, and hitting the road again would make work less accessible to him.

 

Things deteriorated at a steady rate, little pieces of the man he'd worked so hard to become withering and flaking away like ash. The only thing that seemed to tether him was regularly sending letters back to Gavin, like a slender thread still connecting him to his old life.

 

He knew he'd have to stop at some point soon. It had been almost five months since he'd left, he wouldn't have fooled anyone by saying it was for Gavin's benefit rather than his own.

 

Only two more letters, he promised himself, writing as much to Gavin. That was all he thought he'd be able to manage. Even that much was questionable, but Ryan wanted to provide at least that small buffer, do something to lessen the blow.

 

That was, if Gavin was even reading the letters in the first place.

 

He wrote that he hadn't had any dreams still, that this time away from the crew, whilst painful for him, was at least having some benefit.

 

His hands trembled with every lie.

 

~* * *~

 

Ryan didn't realise he'd been subconsciously using the letters as a way to measure time until the need to write the final one approached.

 

 _You need to send that letter in the next three days if you want it to get there on schedule_ , his mind told him, an unhelpful, constant reminder pressing up against his every waking thought.

 

_Two days._

 

_Today._

 

Ryan's hands were already shaking when he sat down at his tiny dining table. They'd been like that near-constantly over the last few days, one of the reasons he'd been putting off writing the letter to the last minute - the other being that once the letter was done and gone, that was it. That last fine thread tying him to his past would be severed.

 

He breathed deep a few times, but it didn't steady him much. With a sigh, he picked up the pen and put it to paper.

 

 _Dear Gavin,_ he began, as he always did. Or, at least, he tried. The quaking of his fingers muddied the words into indecipherability.

 

"No, no, come on," Ryan hissed at his trembling hand, pen jerking across the paper, leaving harsh, jagged lines of black in its wake.

 

Damn it. He needed to get this last letter out. If Gavin was actually still reading them, then Ryan knew the younger man would absolutely come looking for him if he never received the promised final letter, or maybe even if it was just a few days late. He'd already put it off for as long as he could, futilely hoping that the slump he'd spiralled into would quickly reach its end, but of course it had only gotten worse. He cursed himself for being so regular with the letters.

 

He tore the paper out of his notebook and started again, forcing his breathing to regulate. As long as he focussed on absolutely nothing else, he could keep the tremors at bay, could maintain the façade of normalcy and allow Gavin to move on to a better existence, like he deserved…

 

Ryan got halfway through before his hands started shaking again, so suddenly and violently that the crooked marks the pen left behind looked like the record of an erratic heartbeat.

 

"Fuck!" he yelled, angrily hurling the pen across the room. The room being the size it was, it didn't travel far before hitting the opposite wall, shattering on impact, an ugly black spray of ink splattering across the ugly grey wallpaper. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He was useless. He couldn't even run away from his problems right.

 

_What a coward._

 

Struggling to keep his breathing steady, Ryan dug another pen out of his duffle and tried again.

 

It took him several more hours, and many, many more failed attempts, but finally he managed to produce something that was at least legible. That was all he had the strength for.

 

He hoped that the admittedly pitiful attempt would be enough to fool Gavin, and he ignored the mountain of doubts he had to the contrary. In any case, he had more than his fair share of misgivings that Gavin was even reading the letters at all.

 

He walked down to a post box about twenty minutes away, then spent another good twenty minutes staring at the flaky red paint pulling away from the metal before putting the letter in the slot, all the breath leaving him as it dropped inside. He sagged a little, like some vital piece of him had fallen away alongside the letter.

 

That was it. His last line of communication with Gavin was now officially gone. Ryan took a few steadying breaths, heedless of the odd looks he was getting from passers-by, then straightened.

 

He had work to do.

 

~* * *~

 

Ryan had been given the job earlier in the week, and by now he had a pretty solid grasp of his target's daily routine. Wake up, drag himself to work for the day, come home, drink, pass out on his couch as frequently as his bed, repeat. It seemed like an incredibly lacklustre existence, one that Ryan couldn't entirely reconcile with the idea of somebody wanting this guy dead, but he wasn't being paid to ask questions.

 

He'd done enough research to know that no one would come seeking retribution for his target's death, so, that night, once his target had had ample time to drink himself into unconsciousness, Ryan quietly broke into his apartment.

 

He made his way through the darkened rooms. The couch was empty, so evidently his target had managed to make it to bed before falling into a drunken stupor.

 

Ryan pulled out one of his knives as he padded quietly to the open bedroom door, heartrate quickening at the thought of slicing someone open - the guy would likely be drunk still, so he was going to be a bleeder - but once he reached the door, the desire to frenziedly hack away like that seemed to drain away.

 

He'd had a long day. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

 

Still, he was a professional, and he'd already broken into his target's house. He would just make it quick. He tucked the knife away and stalked forward.

 

The man was splayed across his bed like a starfish, mouth open and snoring, sheets halfway off the bed and pillow on the floor. Ryan considered for a moment, then picked up the pillow, putting it over the man's face and pressing down hard. At least it would stop the snoring.

 

The pillowcase was old and stained, and as soon as Ryan pressed too hard, it tore in his hands, pillow slipping in his grip. The man had already woken and started writhing, and Ryan was surprised enough by the fabric tearing that the man had enough chance to squirm out from under the pillow. Ryan was quick to toss the pillow to the side and grab his target by the throat, squeezing, before he had a chance to scream. The man flailed at him, but Ryan grimly kept hold.

 

"Ryan, stop," the man beneath him croaked, Gavin's desperate eyes stared pleadingly up at him.

 

Ryan loosened his grip. "What…"

 

"-I said get off me, you fucking junkie! Are you fucking insane?" The man punched him in the ribs, hard. Ryan blinked and any sign of Gavin was gone. "Get outta my goddamn house!"

 

Ryan shook his head and flipped the man over onto his stomach, putting a knee against his lower back, pinning his arms. The man grunted in surprise, not having expected the intruder to keep coming at him now that his victim was awake.

 

"W-wait, I've got money, I'll tell you-"

 

Ryan wrapped his hands around the man's neck once more to make him shut up, tight enough this time that there was no space left for him to squeeze out a single word. He choked and gurgled and after a few minutes, he went still. Ryan let out a shaky breath into the sudden silence.

 

Then he broke down and started to weep.

 

~* * *~

 

That night, he experienced his worst night-terror yet.

 

His hands were wrapped around Gavin's throat, no less horrifying for the number of times his mind had conjured that particular scenario. When he tried to pull away this time, though, he couldn't move, his whole body locking in place. Gavin writhed frantically against him, fingernails tearing against the backs of Ryan's hands, but it didn't help.

 

Ryan watched, immobile, face inches from Gavin's as he pinned the younger man to the ground by his throat. He watched as Gavin tried to form words, to beg, face going from red to purple as spittle collected at the corners of his mouth. Each passing second felt like a year, time seeming to dilate as Ryan watched the fight drain from Gavin's form in excruciating detail, until he was left with his hands clamped around the neck of a corpse.

 

He'd never dreamt of the actual moment of Gavin's death at his hands - only the aftermath, or Gavin pulling free of his grasp with terror in his eyes, or Gavin turning on him and choking him instead until he woke up gasping for air.

 

Never this. Never feeling the life leaving the body beneath him, never feeling Gavin's final breath hot and desperate on his cheek.

 

It was so real, so visceral, that he couldn't completely convince himself it was only a dream, not with everything in his mind screaming that he had truly just done the unthinkable.

 

When finally, mercifully, he woke, Ryan was too exhausted to even cry.

 

He moved again shortly after. Not out of Liberty City - not even out of Bohan - just somewhere a little better than his current accommodations. He reasoned that even if it didn't seem like it made much difference, he certainly wasn't doing himself any favours by sleeping on a bed that protested at even the slightest of movements.

 

The new place wasn't much bigger. The tiny kitchenette didn't even have an oven, just an old plastic microwave with a cracked faceplate, and the bed was still a pitiful little single, but at the very least the mattress didn't shriek like something dying every time he moved. Besides that, though, the studio apartment was in a similar state of dilapidation - wallpaper that looked like it had been put up in the 80s peeling lazily from the walls, mould racing up the shower curtains, rust gnawing at the metal fixtures.

 

With the state he was in, though, Ryan would have felt out of place living somewhere that was in good repair.

 

Moving didn't end up helping much, not that that was particularly surprising; if anything, his mental state continued to decline, the nightmares ravaging him with increasing frequency and ferocity. He began to fear going to sleep, the number of quiet nights steadily outweighed by those beset with imagined horrors. They began to encroach on his waking hours, too - he'd see Burnie on a street corner, or again see Gavin's terrified face staring up at him when he took out one of his targets. Then he'd blink and they'd go back to being perfect strangers.

 

The hallucinations weren't just visual, either, voices plaguing his waking hours at intermittent intervals. Burnie and Gavin again, Dan, Geoff, the rest of his crew. All accusing him of failure, only useful as an instrument to deliver pain - and even his usefulness there was coming into question, mind and body both refusing to obey him with alarming regularity.

 

Somewhere, distantly in the back of his mind, he recognised that he was spiralling, hard. Knowing it and acting upon it were two very different things, however. He'd cut all ties with everyone he knew and loved; as flimsy a connection as the letters had been, that was gone as well, leaving him lost and alone, drifting away without anything to anchor him. The only person that would benefit from Ryan getting better was Ryan himself, and more and more that didn't feel like something he deserved.

 

The worse he got, though, the stronger his resolve to stay away from his old life grew. It would be bad enough being subject to Gavin's sympathy if the younger man ever saw what a shell of his former self he'd become, but the way his dreams were increasingly bleeding into his reality only increased his concern that he'd accidentally hurt Gavin if he ever saw him again.

 

His days became a blur, barely leaving his tiny apartment except to drag himself down to those sketchy bars in order to pick up work. Even that began to run dry, his descent into the deepest grips of his mental illness driving him to mangle his victims in ways that few had the stomach for, the desperate, encroaching insanity in his eyes making many of his clientele too wary to hire him.

 

He had a phone, too, a burner cell that he changed every few weeks, keeping the number with the owners of the bars he usually pulled the most clients from, in case someone came asking for his services on a night when he was elsewhere.

 

It seldom rang anymore, so when it began vibrating suddenly in his pocket, he jumped up with a curse, then immediately berated himself for his twitchiness. He let out a slow breath, mastering himself, slipping on the uncaring mask of the Vagabond - or was it Malicious, now, did he really have any claim left to his old title? - and dug the phone out of his pocket. He felt so worn out, frayed, that at this point even doing what he did best didn't do a lot to take the edge off. And even when he did his damnedest to imagine that his targets were Burnie, or just themselves if he was feeling particularly strained, his mind would still sometimes conjure Gavin's face instead, on more than one occasion giving his victims enough of a window to almost successfully turn on him.

 

Ryan took another steadying breath and slapped the phone to his ear, keeping his voice hard and clipped, leaving no room for the tremors to make themselves evident. "Go ahead."

 

_"I'm curious, how much would you charge for you to admit you were wrong and come home already?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this chapter ends exactly where the ones covering Gavin's perspective did. Aren't I the greatest


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slam dunks a ~5.5K word chapter on your head and walks away*
> 
> Content warnings for mental health issues (duh) and smut.

_"I'm curious, how much would you charge for you to admit you were wrong and come home already?"_

 

Ryan's heart froze slightly in his chest. For a moment, he half-convinced himself it was another hallucination, but Gavin wasn't accusing him of being a worthless piece of scum. "How did you get this number?"

 

Gavin snorted on the other end of the line. _"You really need to ask me that? C'mon, Ryan."_

 

Point taken. Ryan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He forced himself to keep his tone neutral, to keep himself from spiralling even further out of control. "I told you not to look for me. Unless you actually have work for me, you're wasting your time. I'm expecting a call to come through soon."

 

_"…You're such a prick."_

 

"Comes with the job," Ryan muttered, lowering the phone, ignoring the ache settling deep into his soul.

 

_"Don't you fucking dare hang up on me, Ryan."_

 

Ryan let out an aggravated huff of air, lifting the phone to his ear once more. "I'm not coming back, okay? Can't you see you're better off without me? Not only does being involved with me put a massive target on your back, but I, physically, am dangerous to you. Or don't you remember that I tried to strangle you in my sleep? Why are you being so stubborn, so-"

 

 _"Selfish?"_ Gavin's voice cracked across his like a whip. _"Like you are? Walking out on me without saying anything to my face, because you're too much of a coward, just leaving a fucking note for me? Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Ryan? I cried_. _I cried for_ hours. _"_

 

Sharp shards of pain thrust themselves deep into Ryan's chest, all his nightmares of Gavin hating him for what he'd done starting to rise up around him. Maybe he was hallucinating again after all. "It's better this way," he said weakly, not even convincing himself. "You're safer this way."

 

 _"That's a load of shit to make you feel better about your decisions and you know it. We have a dangerous job, Ryan. You not being here isn't going keep me out of danger._ I love you. _And you leaving like that is destroying me."_

 

"Gavin…"

 

 _"It's not better this way, Ryan. It really isn't. I miss you so much that it sometimes hurts just to breathe."_ He gulped shakily, clearly holding back tears. _"Please, Ryan. Please come home. You're killing me by being gone like this."_

 

"I'm not good enough for you, Gavin," he whispered. "I put you in danger, I hurt you, and I love you too much to do that to you anymore."

 

 _"Ryan, please,"_ Gavin said softly. _"This isn't me trying to save a damaged soul to make myself feel better. This is me trying to help you, because_ I _love_ you _too much to let you destroy yourself like this. I know you love me, I know that you're doing this because you don't want me to get hurt, but this is just hurting both of us even more. If you left to find someone who could help you with your problems, I'd be a little more okay with it, but I know you didn't. I know that you're just wallowing in your own self-pity in whatever place you've holed yourself up in. When's the last time you laughed, or even smiled, Ryan? You're not living right now, you're just existing. You're not getting any better by doing this. If anything, I'd bet you're getting worse. And that's hurting me more than anything else possibly could."_

 

Tears began to roll down Ryan's cheeks despite his best efforts to stymy them. The walls he'd built around himself over the past few months were proving to be far less sturdy than he'd convinced himself they were, crumbling to dust around him.

 

"Gavin, please stop making this harder than it has to be."

 

 _"Love is hard, Ryan. It's not some rollick in the flowers, especially not with the lives we lead. You don't just leave when the going gets tough, you do everything you can to work on your issues together and help each other be better."_ He let out a humourless laugh. _"Because I'm definitely worse for wear with you gone. You could ask anyone in the crew, if you had the stones to talk to any of 'em. I'm a right miserable prick to be around right now."_

 

"Better miserable than dead," Ryan muttered.

 

 _"I'm sorry, but if you really think that this is the best solution, then you're an utter moron."_ Gavin retorted. _"Do you really think that a short but happy life is worse than a long, miserable one? What's even the_ point, _then, if that's all you've got? And that's with short and happy being the_ worst _case scenario, there's still plenty chance we'd have years and years ahead of us."_ His breath hitched quietly. _"You said you want me to be happy, but Ryan, being with you is the happiest I've ever been. Please don't martyr yourself like this for a reason that doesn't even exist."_

 

Ryan was stopped from replying by a knock on the door. His brow furrowed. He'd lied to Gavin earlier; he didn't currently have any clients and he wasn't expecting anyone to contact him, least of all in person. "Hang on, Gavin," he said, his tone low and urgent, fingers finding his gun without looking and levelling it at the door. His hand shook so much it almost fell from his grip, but he grit his teeth and maintained his hold, shifting the phone to the crook of his neck so that he was able to brace the hand around the gun. "No one should know where I am, but there's someone knocking on my door. I have to check it out."

 

_"I know. It's me."_

 

Ryan's stomach twisted itself into a tangle and he froze, disbelieving. "What?"

 

 _"I'm at the door."_ Another soft rap. _"Me again."_

 

"How…" Ryan trailed off. He knew how. Settling anywhere for more than a week or two had been a mistake. He should've kept moving. He should've known Gavin wouldn't give up on him. His gut swirled with a conflicting mix of despair and hope.

 

Gavin sounded grimly amused. _"If I could get your number, don't you think I'd be able to track you down in person? Open the door."_

 

Dumbfounded, Ryan put down the gun and crossed the small space, removing the chair from under the knob and opening the door before his better judgement could catch up to him.

 

And there was Gavin, his normally wild hair lying flat, his usual form-flattering attire replaced by baggy travel clothes, deep shadows under his eyes like bruises.

 

He'd never seemed more beautiful.

 

Gavin saw Ryan's confusion, his fear and vulnerability, and he capitalised on it, shoving his way into the tiny studio before Ryan could collect himself, shutting the door behind him.

 

"Nice place," he said dryly as he shrugged off his laptop bag and set it on the chair, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the rusted fixtures and the mould.

 

"Gavin, please," Ryan rasped, all moisture seeming to flee from his mouth. No, no. This couldn't be real. This had to be a hallucination, otherwise Ryan would just end up hurting the real Gavin, and that was something he knew he'd never be able to live with. "You can't be here, I can't-"

 

"Well, you're going to have to," Gavin snapped. "You have any idea what you've put me through? Every day for the past _five months_ I've woken up and reached out for you, then felt like I'd been punched in the gut when I remembered you were gone."

 

Ryan closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head. When he opened his eyes, Gavin was still there. Solid and real and definitely not leaving until Ryan made him _. No, no, please._ "Gavin, please, I can't do this. I'm not strong enough for this, okay? Is that what you want to hear?" He looked at the younger man imploringly. "I'm weak and selfish and I refuse to let you get hurt because of it."

 

Gavin laughed, the sound devoid of humour. "For the last time, what you're doing _is_ hurting me, Ryan. Look at me." His green eyes glittered, threatening to spill over. "Look at me and tell me to my face that not having you in my life is better for me." The tears finally brimmed, streaking down his cheeks, and without thinking, Ryan reached forward to wipe them away.

 

Ryan's breath caught the moment he came in contact with Gavin's skin, and he couldn't bring himself to pull away. It had been close to half a year since he'd last touched Gavin. It felt like there was a bomb going off under his skin, like all the love and anger he could possibly produce would come pouring catastrophically out of him at a moment's notice.

 

"I can't do this," he whispered brokenly, still holding Gavin's cheek. Even just the proximity of his hands to Gavin's neck, how only a few seconds of his mind betraying him would be enough for him to wrap his fingers around Gavin's throat and squeeze, terrified him. It seemed like all of the worst parts of his nightmares were begging to take shape. But he didn't let go.

 

As terrifying as the mere thought of hurting Gavin was, the thought that this wasn't real, that if he moved his hand away Gavin would just evaporate back into the addled mess of his mind, was worse.

 

Because if this was another one of his hallucinations, it meant that Gavin had given up on him and moved on. And even though Ryan wanted that for Gavin, so badly, he knew that it would destroy him in the process.

 

Gavin stared at him, face wet with tears, eyes seeming to pierce deep into Ryan's soul, shining a blinding light into his darkest corners. "Then say it. Say you don't even want to try to get better. Because isolating yourself like this doesn't help anyone, least of all you."

 

Ryan began to tremble.

 

"I want to help you, Ryan, but I can't if you won't let me. You need to _want_ to get better. I'm not going to force you into anything, that won't help either of us."

 

Matching tears traced silently down Ryan's face. "I can't..."

 

"It's okay to need help," Gavin told him softly. "I'm here for you, if you'll have me. And I know you hate the idea, but you said the therapy did help." He stepped out from under Ryan's hand. Ryan's skin felt cold where it had been touching Gavin's. "But if you genuinely think you'll be better off like this, with no friends, no support network, then say the word. I'll go. I promise I won't call you again, or track you down. I'll leave you be. But only if you want." His mouth pressed into a thin, trembling line. "I need to hear you say to my face that you don't want me." Fresh tears glittered in his eyes as he waited for Ryan's answer.

 

All the loneliness Ryan had suffered the past five months suddenly didn't feel worth it. Even though he was scared to death of the consequences, he surged forward, gathering Gavin against him, bringing their lips together in a messy kiss. Gavin kissed him back just as fervently, tasting salt and desperation and desire.

 

"I missed you," Gavin breathed. "I missed you so much." He walked them both backwards, Ryan's arms wrapped around his waist, and, in within a few steps, hit the mattress.

 

"Gavin, I can't," Ryan whispered, almost as if by reflex, crystalline tears clinging to his eyelashes. Contrary to his words, he then bore the younger man down onto the tiny bed.

 

"Then don't," Gavin replied quietly, gazing up at him. "If this doesn't feel right to you, tell me to go."

 

Ryan let out a low moan that almost sounded as if he were in pain, and he returned to passionately kissing Gavin, lips trailing down the Brit's jawline. "I'm sorry." He pressed the words against Gavin's skin, murmuring them into the hollow of his neck, curling his body over the top of Gavin's and encompassing him completely. "I'm so sorry."

 

"It's okay," Gavin soothed, smoothing his thumb over Ryan's cheek. "You're okay. I'm here for you, it's okay."

 

Tears glimmered on Ryan's lashes as he pulled back. "It's not, though," he whispered. "I stopped trying to get better. I abandoned you."

 

"Ryan." Gavin tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind the older man's ear. "Are you going to come home with me, and try to get better again?"

 

Ryan nodded wordlessly. Gavin kissed him on the forehead.

 

"Then that's what matters - that even if you stumble a few times on the way, you dust yourself off and try again. As long as you do your best, that's all I can ask for."

 

"And what if my best isn't enough?"

 

"Then I'll help you get there," Gavin replied, kissing him again. "I love you, and I'll do my best to help you, too, for as long as you'll have me." He smiled. "Now," he said, voice dropping a little, "I think there's something a little more immediate that we should attend to." His arms encircled Ryan's midsection, tugging the older man closer, bringing the weight of his muscular form to bear down on his own slender body, pressing against him in way that he'd been craving for over five months. With a groan, he rocked up against Ryan, mouth falling open as Ryan pressed back, pushing him against the mattress and peppering his neck with hot kisses. Gavin's fingers fumbled for the hem of Ryan's shirt, and the older man pulled away only because it would help Gavin divest him of his clothing faster. Gavin ran his hands over the planes of Ryan's torso, achingly familiar in parts, but also a little gaunter than he remembered, and littered with new scars, both fresh and faded pink. Now that he thought about it, Ryan seemed paler, too, which was definitely saying something, the warm softness that had once rounded out the hardest of his edges gone. It was like he'd physically styled himself to reflect the state he'd been in - no compassion, no love, just a hollow machine designed for nothing but violence. Gavin frowned, uncomfortably realising that he probably wasn't far off the mark.

 

"What's wrong?" Ryan asked, pulling back, sensing something was bothering him.

 

Gavin smiled. Not nothing, then. "It's fine," he reassured. "I'll just be happier once we're home." Gavin tugged his own shirt off over his head, hair mussing up in a tame approximation of its usual artfully structured disarray. Ryan gave him an appraising look, distracted from the concern in the younger man's face by his increase in musculature.

 

"Have you been working out?"

 

Gavin grinned, preening a little under the attention. "Been doing some hand-to-hand training, amongst other stuff." He trailed his fingers along the flat planes of his own stomach, down the edge of the defined V leading to the crux of his hips. "I'm pretty happy with the results so far."

 

"I'm _very_ happy with the results so far," Ryan agreed, voice low and gaze voracious as he pressed Gavin down onto the bed. "You look good. You look strong."

 

With another grin, Gavin twisted his hips and flipped them both over, bedsprings protesting quietly as they came within inches of toppling onto the floor. "I _am_ strong," he said, hands spread across Ryan's chest.

 

Ryan's lips tugged upwards. "Might just have to test that when we get back."

 

Gavin's smile softened. "I'm still gentle, too," he said, leaning down and pressing their lips together, mouth moving sweetly against Ryan's even as they both started to harden against each other.

 

"Good," Ryan rumbled. "I don't want you to lose that." He brushed a lock of Gavin's hair out of his face, cradling his cheek. "I'd hate if I was the reason that you lost that part of yourself."

 

"I'm still me," Gavin assured him. A devious grin crept across his face. "And I still know what you like." He sat back so that he was crouched between Ryan's knees, biting his lip as he popped the button on the older man's jeans. Ryan's back arched, hips lifting from the bed, and Gavin yanked his pants off in one go. Ryan found himself immensely glad that he'd put in the effort to shower that morning - since he'd been away from the crew, he'd been lucky if he could bring himself to be bothered enough to shower more than once or twice a week. It would have certainly dampened the mood if he'd been reeking of stale sweat.

 

Gavin placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along Ryan's thighs, mouthing at the cotton boxers concealing the older man's burgeoning erection.

 

"Wait, Gavin, no." Ryan pushed him up. Gavin kept his hands on Ryan's thighs, concern etched into his features, like he was worried that Ryan would run straight out of the room if he let him go.

 

"What? What's wrong? Ryan, please don't-"

 

Ryan brushed a hand soothingly through the younger man's hair. "I'm the one that ran off, let me… You shouldn't have to convince me to go back, I should falling over myself apologising for abandoning you like that."

 

Gavin relaxed, a relieved smile curving at his lips. "You say that like I don't want to do this," he murmured, fingers sliding over the crux of Ryan's underwear and gently squeezing. Ryan bucked up into the touch, but then put a hand on Gavin's shoulder, pushing him away.

 

"No, I mean…" His blue eyes watered suddenly, and he blinked rapidly to clear them. "Gav… I've gotta be able to prove to myself that _I_ can still be gentle. Please. Let me take care of you."

 

The younger man's gaze softened. "Okay, Ryan. Whatever you need."

 

Ryan extricated himself from underneath Gavin, kneeling beside the bed and gently tugging Gavin towards him by the knees, settling himself between the Brit's thighs. Gavin wormed his way out of his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles, and Ryan tugged them off the rest of the way. The veritable forest of hair on Gavin's legs was by far thinnest on the insides of his thighs, and Ryan kissed his way up them, careful to not suck or bite so hard that he left a mark. Gavin's breath hitched a little when Ryan's mouth reached high enough to touch against the hem of his boxer briefs, one hand rising to card softly through the older man's hair. Ryan mouthed at him, tasting salt after few moments as Gavin's underwear dampened with precome. Gavin sighed quietly, and Ryan looked up at him, hands rising to hook his fingers over the waistband of Gavin's boxers, pulling them down before placing a soft kiss on the tip of Gavin's cock. The Brit let out a small gasp at finally getting some skin-on-skin contact there. It had been so long - by far the single longest stretch of celibacy in his entire adult life - and Ryan's skills hadn't diminished in the meantime, if the way his tongue swirled perfectly around Gavin's cock as he took him into his mouth was any indication.

 

Within no time, it seemed, Ryan had built up a steady rhythm, head bobbing methodically as his hands curled around the outsides of Gavin's thighs, both anchoring himself and keeping Gavin spread open for him to lavish attention upon.

 

It must have been difficult for Ryan to put himself in such a physically vulnerable position after all he'd been through, and Gavin felt such an intense swell of love and affection for the older man that it almost made him start crying.

 

Then he let out a cry of pleasure instead, as Ryan suddenly swallowed him down to the root. "God, Ryan," he moaned. "God, I've missed you." He ran a hand through Ryan's hair - a little shaggy, a little unkempt, not bound back into a ponytail as it usually was - but didn't make any motions to hold Ryan down or to yank him off, just tugging gently to provide sensation.

 

When, finally, Gavin felt his end approaching, his fingers tightened incrementally, head tipping back with a moan as he did his best not to thrust too hard into Ryan's mouth. For his part, Ryan picked up on the nonverbal cues and promptly swallowed Gavin to the root once more, nose crushed to the younger man's pelvic bone, throat convulsing around his length. Gavin cursed, body hunching over Ryan's and clutching his hair as he came forcefully down the older man's throat. Ryan kept sucking until Gavin started to shudder with oversensitivity.

 

"Jesus, Ryan," he rasped once the older man had pulled off. "I'd almost forgotten how good you are." He dragged Ryan up to his level and kissed him hungrily, heedless of the taste of his own semen on the other man's tongue. He grinned into Ryan's mouth. "Time I return the favour, yeah?" he murmured, reaching between them, smile suddenly turning to a frown when he found that Ryan had gone almost completely soft. Ryan took hold of his wrist and gently pulled him away.

 

"Maybe we should leave it for now. The fact that you felt good is enough for me."

 

Gavin's gaze was laden with concern. "Rye? Are you okay?"

 

The older man managed a wry smile. "I think we both know the answer to that question." There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before Ryan spoke again. "I'll be fine, honest. Y'know. Eventually." He drew himself a little further onto the bed, lying on his back with his head on his pillow, drawing Gavin along with him. "C'mon, I must have worn you out a little, at least."

 

Gavin allowed himself to be pulled down, slotting himself against Ryan's side. He reached up and twisted a length of Ryan's shaggy hair between his fingers, a good few inches longer than it had been when he'd left. "You need a haircut," he told the older man. "You really haven't been taking care of yourself out here, have you?"

 

Ryan held him tight, saying nothing. It had been a rhetorical question, in any case.

 

Gavin's gaze softened. "We'll fix that. You'll get better once we're home, you'll see." A yawn cracked at his jaw; it had already been fairly late when he'd initially called Ryan, so it had to be close to, if not past, midnight by now. "I'm about ready for bed, are you right if I go turn the light off?"

 

Ryan shrugged noncommittally, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep either way. "Sure."

 

The Brit was too tired to catch the fatalistic undertone to Ryan's words, padding over to the light switch and groping his way back over to the bed once he'd turned it off. He muffled a curse as he inevitably found the bed with his shin, then clambered back in, murmuring good night to Ryan as he nestled against the older man's bulk, breath going slow and deep in a matter of seconds.

 

Ryan settled his arms around Gavin's slumbering form with a soft sigh, resigning himself to the long, restless hours stretching out ahead of him.

 

~* * *~

 

"G'morning," Gavin slurred drowsily as the room began to lighten with the diffuse light of dawn, shifting in Ryan's arms.

 

Ryan blinked, eyes bleary, forcing himself to be alert. "Morning," he murmured, grinding the palm of his hand against his eye socket.

 

Gavin frowned at him, taking in the bruise-like bags under his eyes. "Did you... sleep? Like, at all?"

 

Shaking his head slightly, Ryan smothered a yawn. "No. But 'm fine. Just need a coffee."

 

The Brit's frown deepened. "Why? Ryan, you should've..."

 

Ryan sighed tiredly. "Didn't want it to happen again," he muttered, looking away so that he wouldn't have to see the undoubtedly sympathetic expression on Gavin's face.

 

"Oh, Ryan," the Brit murmured softly, laying a hand on Ryan's arm. "I would've spent the night at my hotel, why didn't you tell me?"

 

"Didn't want you to leave," he mumbled, cheeks colouring. There was a small part of him still convinced that he really was hallucinating everything that had happened the night before, that Gavin would become as insubstantial as smoke if he let the younger man out of his sight for even one second.

 

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," Gavin told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Neither of us has anywhere we absolutely need to be right now, I think it's best if you get some sleep before we head home." He smiled. "I'll be here when you wake up, I promise. Just close your eyes."

 

Ryan did as he was told, settling back onto the bed. Gavin drew soft, sweeping designs over Ryan's chest with his forefinger, and the repeated motions were soothing in a way that, despite his best efforts, had Ryan falling asleep in a matter of minutes.

 

~* * *~

 

Ryan had a moment of hollow panic when he woke without feeling the warmth of Gavin's hand curled in his own, but calmed when he saw the younger man seated at the small plastic folding table that served as a dining area, fiddling on his laptop. The Brit looked up at his frantic movement, face softening into a smile when he saw that Ryan's anxiety had only been momentary.

 

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he greeted, tucking away his phone.

 

Ryan stretched and yawned, back cracking with a satisfying pop. "Morning? Did I only get a couple hours, then?" He squinted at the window, trying to gauge the time of day, but the griminess of the glass and the fact that the next building over was less than a metre away meant that was impossible.

 

"Try a day," Gavin said wryly, and Ryan blinked at him for a moment, not sure he'd heard right. "Guess you must've needed it."

 

"No kidding," Ryan said slowly, wiping the grit from his eyes. "Did you go out at all?"

 

"Promised you I'd stay, didn't I?" Gavin shrugged, smiling. "I didn't know how long you'd be out for, I didn't want to risk not being there when you did get up. 'Sides, I got a bit more sleep myself, just wedged myself in next to you. You didn't even move. Don't think I've ever seen you sleep that deeply."

 

"I don't, usually," Ryan murmured, standing and padding over to the ramshackle cabinets over the kitchen sink that served as his pantry and pulling down a box of cereal, intent on quelling the rumblings of his stomach. He was normally easy to wake, the life he led requiring a constant level of alertness. That Gavin could have gone to bed with him and then gotten up again without Ryan noticing spoke volumes to how desperately he'd needed a good night's sleep. "You shouldn't've done that. I could've…" He couldn't bear to finish the thought.

 

"But you didn't," Gavin pointed out.

 

Ryan curled his fingers over the edge of the sink, head hanging, shoulders hunched. "Gavin… I lied, in all those letters I sent to you. The nightmares… last night would have to be the first night in a week that I haven't had one. They've gotten so bad recently that it's gotten hard to tell sometimes that they're not real." He let out a shaky breath and pushed away from the sink, looking over at Gavin imploringly, voice breaking. "I'm still not entirely sure you're actually here right now."

 

"Hey, hey," Gavin soothed, instantly on his feet and closing the short distance between them. "I'm here, I'm really here, okay?" He smoothed a thumb over the stubble on Ryan's cheek, one of Ryan's warm, broad hands rising to hold him in place. "You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going anywhere without you."

 

Ryan closed his eyes. "I don't deserve you."

 

"It's not about deserving anything. I love you, and I want what's best for you - and that definitely doesn't involve staying here longer than we have to. Are you okay to head out once you've had breakfast?"

 

The older man nodded. "Yeah, I'm good, I didn't have any jobs lined up or anything at the moment, and I'd hardly say the locale is anywhere near charming enough to make me want to stay."

 

"Good." Gavin smiled. "Eat up and pack whatever you don't want to leave behind, then, I've got a surprise for you."

 

~* * *~

 

Ryan was quiet and contemplative as Gavin drove them back to the hotel he'd booked into, staring out over the river dividing Algonquin and Bohan without actually seeing it. After five months on his own, it felt strange letting someone else take the reins, even when it was someone he was so intimately familiar with.

 

Gavin was enigmatic about what the surprise was, only answering, "You'll see," with a sly grin when Ryan asked what the hell they were doing as they entered the carpark of Gavin's hotel.

 

The Brit took them up into his room only to grab his bag - he'd been hopeful enough that he'd find Ryan on his first night that he hadn't unpacked anything except for his laptop, which he now slid back inside the bag - before heading back down to the garage, eagerly leading Ryan over to the other vehicle he had parked in the hotel's garage.

 

Ryan's eyes lit up when he saw his beloved Bati 801. He'd so wanted to take his bike with him, but had known that with the neighbourhoods he'd likely be frequenting, it was liable to get stolen. He was thrilled that Gavin had thought to bring it.

 

He rushed over and ran his fingers reverently over the glossy black body. Gavin smirked. "Careful, I might get jealous," he teased, and Ryan rolled his eyes.

 

"Did you bring my helmet?"  
 

Gavin rolled his eyes back at him. "'Course I did, you pleb, Los Santos is on the other side of the damn country, what kind of idiot d'you think I am?"

 

Ryan chuckled, almost catching himself by surprise. It had been almost half a year since he'd laughed for the joy of anything other than bringing someone else pain. Gavin caught the look, and understood it instantly, gently taking Ryan's hand in his own.

 

"You ready to head out, then?'

 

"Yeah," Ryan replied, a slight smile still on his lips. "You told Geoff that you've found me and we're coming home, right?" _Home._ The word tasted sweet in his mouth.

 

Gavin froze a little. "Um," he said eventually, "no?"

 

Ryan gave him a long, measured look. "Gavin," he said evenly, "did you even tell him that you'd gone to look for me?"

 

" _Yes_ , I told him," Gavin retorted indignantly, then looked sheepish. "Well. I sent him a letter in the post to tell him what I was doing."

 

The older man stared for a second, then letter out an explosive burst of laughter. "Well, hardly like I can judge without calling myself a hypocrite in the process, I guess. We should definitely let him know we're on our way, the last thing I think I should be doing at this point is showing up back home unannounced."

 

"Fair point," Gavin muttered, digging his burner phone out of his pocket and dialling Geoff's number, glad that he'd always been good with numbers. He hit the call button and they waited.

 

Gavin bit his lip as the phone continued to ring. Finally, Geoff answered, tone suspicious.

 

_"Who is this?"_

 

"Hi Geoff," Gavin said meekly, and the line immediately went dead. Gavin blinked for a moment before turning to Ryan. "I think he's mad."

 

The phone rang back a few seconds later, and when Gavin answered it, he had to hold it away from his ear, Geoff already in the middle of screeching obscenities at him. He switched it to speaker and set it down on the seat of the bike.

 

 _"-Fuck were you thinking, jaunting off to try and go find Ryan when I_ told _you that fucker doesn't want to be found! You better be calling to admit you were wrong. You get your goddamn skinny British ass back to Los Santos right this second, or I swear to god-"_

 

"I found Ryan," Gavin offered, butting into Geoff's tirade. "I've convinced him to come home."

 

_"You- what?"_

 

"Hey, Geoff," Ryan said. To his credit, the other end of the line was only quiet for a few seconds before Geoff was yelling again.

 

 _"Don't you fucking 'hey Geoff' me, you goddamn son of a bitch-"_ His words devolved into a scream, cut off abruptly as he hung up once more.

 

Ryan looked over at Gavin. "Yeah, he's definitely mad."

 

The phone rang again after a solid minute of uncomfortable silence. Gavin sighed and answered it.

 

"Hi again, Geoff."

 

 _"Both of you get the fuck back to Los Santos so I can yell at you in person,"_ Geoff ordered, the line promptly going dead for the final time.

 

Ryan let out a long breath and gave Gavin a wry smile. "Well… you heard the man."

 

"Yeah," Gavin murmured, unable to help smiling himself. "Time to go home."

 


End file.
